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The 


W onderbox 
Stories 




* 









The 

W onderbox 
Stories 

By 

Will Bradley 


Tork^ 

The Century Co. 

1916 


Copyright, 1916 , by 
The Century Co. 


Published October, 1916 



NOV 14 1916 

©CLA445637 

( ' 


Contents 


PAGE 


Much from Little 3 

The Two Chests 23 

Hans and the Hoop of Gold 36 

The Master Makes a Bargain 49 

The Lad and Luck’s House 64 

The Five Golden Candlesticks 82 

Hans the Wise 99 

Three — and a Fourth 117 

Snip and Stitch 132 

Nip and Tuck 144 



Will Bradley ’ 
Wonderbox 
Stories 




Much from Little 

O NE fine day in June there was such a stir in Noodle- 
burg as had not been seen in that town for many 
a day: a herald astride a big white charger was 
riding up one street and down another and all the 
while blowing a gay tune upon his bugle. 

When the people had come from out their houses and had 
followed that herald into the market-place, he turned his 
horse about, and this is what he said: “ In a land over the 
hills away, there is a King who is looking for a husband for 
the Princess; but the Princess has vowed and declared how 
she will never marry unless she is brought a dress, the finest 
in all the world, into the making of which there has gone no 
sorrow and nothing save kindness. So the King decrees that 
whoever will bring such a dress may have the Princess, and 
half the kingdom to boot.” 

Yes, that was what the herald said in the market-place of 
Noodleburg that day in June. 

As you may well guess, this set the people’s tongues to 
wagging, and it was n’t long before a word or two came to 
the ear of the Provost. How he did chuckle when he heard 
what the King intended to give away! 

This is why the Provost chuckled. He thought: “ Surely 
there are no lads in all the land smarter than the two I have 

3 


Will Bradley's W onderbox Stories 

at home. I will fit them out with this, that, and the other, 
and off they shall go to find the dress. If one of them finds 
it not and fails to win the Princess, then must she surely fall 
to the lot of the other.” 

It did n’t take long then for the Provost to get the lads 
ready. Unto each he gave a fine suit of clothes for his back, 
a bag of silver pennies to tie at his belt, and a good steed 
for the journey. 

This was all right and good, said the two sons, but who 
ever heard of any one riding out to win a Princess with no 
servant to wait upon him — to brush his clothes, hold his 
stirrup, and dance here, there, and yonder, as might be need. 

Now the Provost was close-fisted and stingy, and he 
could n’t hear the silver pennies jingling in the two bags with- 
out making a wry face over the matter. But if the two lads 
must have a servant, why of course they must; only they 
could n’t each have one ; no, there must be one for the two. 
And see how would Brother Hans’s boy, Peter, do? 

Well, since that was all the sauce there was to that pud- 
ding, why they must make the best of it; so if the Provost 
would send for Peter they would be getting along on their 
journey. 

Brother Hans was a poor wood-chopper living at the edge 
of the Black Forest over beyond Noodleburg. As for Peter, 
if one was to say he had enough to eat each day, but no more, 
and one suit of clothes to his back, and no other, that would 
be only the bare truth. 

Yes, Peter could ride with the Provost’s two sons. Hans 
wouldn’t say no to that offer, for perhaps the lad could earn 
a penny or two and see a bit of the world into the bargain. 

4 


Much from Little 

So the Provost’s sons bestrode their fine steeds, and Peter 
mounted a little donkey, and off they started. 

Up one street and down another they went, and by and 
by came out upon the highway. All day they traveled with 
the good sun warm upon their backs, and the birds singing 
by the wayside, arriving, when it was nearly evening, at a 
big town that lay just over the hills. 

“ Do you go ahead, Peter, and get us lodging for the night 
at some inn,” said the older son. 

“ And a good supper, mind you ! ” said the younger. 

Peter let his little donkey run at a smart gallop, and 
presently came into the town and saw before him a fine inn 
with lights in every window and with the savor of meats 
a-cooking coming out of the open door. 

Just across the way was another inn, not so big by one 
half as that fine one, yet a neat and tidy-looking place withal, 
and as good, indeed, as any there were back in Noodleburg. 

At first Peter was for going into the fine inn, and he said, 
“ Surely, this is the sort of place they will be wanting.” Then 
he glanced over the way. “ But if they are of a mind to 
be saving their pennies,” he thought, “ then it is the other 
they would choose. I had best get them lodging there.” 

Across the way he went then, and no sooner was the mat- 
ter settled with the landlord than up the street came the two 
sons. 

So Peter thought they wanted to stop at the little inn, did 
he? And when there was such fine entertainment to be had 
across the way? Well, if that was how he was going to do 
their bidding, why, he could go without his supper; it was 
high time he was taught a lesson. If he wanted a bed, he 

5 




Much from Little 

would have to look for one in the stable. That is what the 
two sons told him. As for them, they would certainly lodge 
in the big inn. 

Off Peter went with his donkey and the two horses; and 
when he had fed them, he shook down a little straw for their 
beds, then curled up in a corner and went to sleep. 

Whatever happened that night with the Provost’s two sons 
is more than I can tell. But it must have been a jolly time they 
were having, for never a minute passed when there was not 
flying out of the open windows a sound of singing and laugh- 
ter. 

On the morrow Peter was up early, and, when he had 
fed and saddled the horses, there was such a noise and stir 
in the stable-yard that he must needs go and see what it was 
all about. 

No sooner did he get outside the door than he saw three 
stout lads with stones and sticks in their fists tormenting a 
little green frog, while they shouted and laughed in great glee. 

“ Here is a game another can play at,” said Peter. And 
in a moment he, too, had a stick in his fist and was wielding 
it as well as the best of them. But it was n’t the frog that 
felt Peter’s blows; he was dusting the jackets of the three 
lads with such warm whacks that he who received one was 
glad to avoid another. 

While the lads were scampering away (which they did as 
fast as their legs could carry them), the frog escaped also. 

When Peter had led the horses around into the street, 
there was the landlord of the little inn standing smiling in 
the doorway. 

“ Good morning, lad,” said the landlord. 

7 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

“ Good morning, sir,” said Peter. 

And now would Peter come over the way a moment? The 
landlord had a word or two the lad might be glad to hear. 

See? The landlord had heard how Peter got no supper 
the night before, and how he was like to get no breakfast; 
here was a bit of bread and cheese he might slip into his 
pocket to eat by the way. And, since the landlord liked the 
looks of such a lad as Peter, here was something more, which 
no doubt would come in handy some day. With that he 
dropped into Peter’s hand a tiny silver casket. 

“How long is our servant going to keep us waiting?” 
These were the words of the older son when he came out 
of the inn and saw Peter over the way. “ And what can 
be in that little silver casket the lad has just slipped into his 
pocket?” That was what the older son was wondering. 
But of this he said nothing. 

All that day they traveled under the good blue sky and 
at evening came into another town. 

Peter knew better what to do this time, for had n’t he been 
taught a good lesson yesterday? There would be no trying 
to save pennies now. 

This time he chose the fine inn; and gay times they cer- 
tainly were having inside, for every guest was a rich lord or 
noble, journeying on to the King’s town, where each hoped 
to be the one to win the fair Princess. 

Well, no sooner had Peter begun his bargaining with the 
landlord than up the street came clattering the two sons. 

So Peter was for putting them in this fine inn, was he? 
Did n’t he know they had spent nigh all their money in the 
last inn? No, they would go to the small one over the way. 

8 


Much from Little 

As for Peter, why it was plain he would never learn how to 
serve them. He had best find a bed in the stable again, and 
get no supper into the bargain. The two sons had no pennies 



left to waste on such a stupid lad; and anyway, he needed 

another lesson. . 

This night there was such a throng of travelers in the 



Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

town, that, with all their servants and lackeys to be housed, 
there was not so much as an inch of room to spare, even in 
the stable. 

A sheltered nook in the lee of a big rock was the only place 
that Peter could find. “ I am in great luck to get such a 
fine bed,” said he, for the night was warm, and he did not 
mind having no more above his head than the twinkling stars. 

No sooner did Peter have his jacket rolled up for a pillow, 
than he saw that another had occupied his nook before him. 
“ Oh, ho! ” said he, “ if I sleep here, I am to have a spider 
for my bedfellow, am I? He has spun a fine web, too. It 
would be a shame to spoil what has cost him so much hard 
labor. I will just find me a new bed.” 

On the morrow, when Peter stood with the horses before 
the little inn, the landlord stepped out of the door of the 
fine inn over the way. 

Would Peter be good enough to step across the street? 
The landlord had something he would say to him. See? 
The landlord had heard how Peter had no supper the night 
before, and how they would give him no breakfast. Here 
was a bit of roast chicken he might tuck into his pocket to 
eat by the way. And — it was good to have a look at a 
fine lad like Peter — here was a little gold casket he might 
have ; it would come in handy some day. 

“Well, well, well! we can’t be waiting here all day for 
our servant to come and hold our stirrups,” is what the 
younger son said when he came out of the inn and saw Peter 
talking with the landlord over the way. But all the while 
he was thinking: “ I wonder what can be the contents of that 
little gold casket? ” 


Much from Little 

Just then the elder son came out of the inn. He had paid 
the score and there was not one penny left to jingle against 
another in either of the two bags. Nothing remained now 
but for Peter to sell the donkey. It would never do for the 
Provost’s two sons to ride to the King’s town with not a penny 
upon them to buy a night’s lodging or to get a bit to eat by 
the way. 

When the donkey had been sold and the pennies counted 
into the two bags, the two sons mounted their fine steeds and 
left Peter to trudge on afoot. How the two were ever going 
to get the dresses that would win the Princess they did not 
know. “ We must trust to luck,” they said. 

“ Ho, Brother,” grumbled the older son, u we are getting 
on but slowly; we must ride double. I will take our servant 
on my horse for away, then ’t will be your turn.” 

Not long did they ride before the older son must know 
a thing or two about the silver casket; and in the end, there 
it was snug in his pocket. Such trinkets were not for servants, 
he said. Peter should have handed it over in the beginning; 
it was very plain he needed another lesson, so he must get 
down and walk. 

“H’m! Well, we will never get to the King’s town at 
this rate,” said the younger son. “ ‘ Needs must when need 
drives.’ Come, fellow, get up with me.” 

Peter mounted before the younger son. As it happened 
before, so it happened now. They had not gone far before 
Peter was paying well for his ride, and this time with the 
gold casket. After that, it was n’t long until Peter was again 
on the ground with no more to bear him on his journey than 
his two good legs. 


11 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Now that they had the two caskets, the Provost’s sons 
were of no mind to have their journey delayed any longer 
by their servant; so, putting spurs to their horses, they went 
galloping off down the road with never so much as one 
“ good-by ” to Peter. 

Yes, the Provost’s two sons went clattering off and left 
Peter alone on the highway. 

Over the hills they rode and through the valleys, and by 
evening came to the town where the King lived. There they 
sold their horses and took lodgings. 

As may well be guessed, no sooner was the older son alone 
in his room than he must be taking a peep at the silver casket. 
My, how he did skip and dance and caper about when he 
saw what was inside! For no sooner did the lid spring open 
than he beheld neither more nor less than a beautiful silk 
dress. All of the color of spun silver, it was, and so finely 
woven that not one little bit did it get wrinkled from being 
confined in the tiny casket. That he would win the Princess 
with such a dress as that, the older son never once doubted. 

While the older son was busy with the silver casket, the 
younger son was having a peep into the gold casket; what 
he found there was another dress as like to that silver one 
as two peas in a pod, only that the color was like unto spun 
gold. 

“ There can be no dress one half so beautiful as this,” 
said the younger son, “ and now the Princess will surely be 
mine.” 

In the morning the two sons started off to the palace. Each 
carried in his pocket one of the tiny caskets, and in his mind 
the thought that when he was next traveling that way it would 

12 


Much from Little 

be the Princess he’d have at his side and not his brother; 
and that he would be riding in the King’s finest coach and 
not kicking his toes in the dust with all the common folks. 

When at last they came to the palace, there were the King 
and Princess seated on a high platform, and before them a 
long line of noble suitors, each bearing his beautiful gift. 

If ever a lady wanted to see fine dresses, she should have 
been in the King’s town on that day, for never before nor 
since has there been such a sight. 

At the very end of the line, the Provost’s two sons had to 
wait nearly the whole day, it took the Princess so long to 
judge. Some of the gowns were so lovely it seemed as if 
she surely must choose one of them, but always, when she 
looked carefully, there was to be found a thread of sorrow 
that had gone somewhere into their making. 

At last up stepped the older son. 

My, but the Princess did like that gown in the silver casket, 
and no mistake ! Look as hard as she would there was not 
to be found in it one single thread of sorrow. Yet she 
couldn’t quite decide; the Provost’s older son was just to be 
seated beside her, and she would take a look in the gold cas- 
ket. 

Up stepped the younger son. A fine gown it was that came 
out of the gold casket and no two words on that! and now 
it was harder deciding than ever. If the silver gown was 
beautiful, certainly it was no more so than the gold one; 
neither was the gold more beautiful than the silver; never one 
single stitch of sorrow could the Princess find in either. As 
for choosing, she just couldn’t that night; the Provost’s two 
sons would please be kind enough to wait until the morrow; 

13 


W ill Bradley's W onderbox Stories 

and now she would be glad to have them come up to the 
palace for supper. 

Meanwhile what had happened to Peter? 

No sooner had the Provost’s two sons left him alone on 
the highway, than Peter began to wonder whether it was best 
to go on or turn back. Then he said, “ Surely, if I may not 
ride, I can at least go afoot, and no doubt there will be fine 
sights to be seen in the King’s tow T n.” So, right foot for- 
ward, off he started. 

A long way Peter traveled, and presently there he was, 
so tired and hungry he could n’t go another step. Then he 
sat down on a rock and felt in the corner of one pocket and 
found a little bread and cheese, and in the corner of the other 
and found a bit of roast chicken; and that wasn’t the worst 
meal that might be, either. 

When Peter had finished eating, he saw that there were 
a few ants running here and there upon the ground, so he 
shook them the crumbs from off his lap, and, getting to his 
feet, started again on his journey. 

A little breeze was singing in the tree-tops, and the great 
white clouds were tumbling overhead as the lad went trudg- 
ing along. Over hills he traveled and through dales, all of 
that day and all of the next, arriving at the King’s town just 
at the dusk of evening. 

What a buzz there was in the streets, what excitement, 
and how people were talking! “What is it all about?” 
That was the first question Peter had to ask. 

Why just this; there had come two smart lads from Noodle- 
burg, with two fine caskets containing two beautiful dresses. 
They were up at the palace now, having supper with the 

14 


Much from Little 

Princess. Which one of the two she would be choosing 
to have for her husband was more than ever a body could 
tell. But ’t would be one or t’ other, that was sure and cer- 
tain. 

When Peter heard this, off he started for the palace. 
“ Now,” said he, “ is the time they will be needing a servant 
to brush their clothes and wait upon them while they are 
visiting the Princess.” 

No, Peter couldn’t enter the palace. That’s what the 
guard told him when he reached the front gate. Such a 
thing was not to be thought of. The King was n’t for having 
a poor lad like Peter about while the Princess was at supper 
with her two fine suitors. Peter must be locked in the guard- 
house for the present — that would surely save trouble. 
“ There is no telling,” said the guard, “ what tricks a lad 
like you might be up to.” 

A hard bench in the guard-house was all Peter had for 
his bed that night; but he was too tired to mind it one particle 
and slept as soundly as might be. 

In the morning early, when he awoke, he jumped up and 
said: “ I will just be tidying up a bit to pay for my night’s 
lodging.” 

In one corner was a pile of sweepings. “ I will clean 
this up first,” said he, as he started to brush it into the dust- 
pan. 

Now, at the very bottom of the pile there was hiding a 
little green frog. 

“ Oh, ho! ” said Peter, when he saw the frog winking and 
blinking up at him, “so I have spoiled your house, have I? 
Well, that is too bad, but perhaps you can find a better one 

15 


Will Bradley s W onderbox Stories 

outside.” Then he stooped to pick up the little creature, 
intending to put it out at the door. 

No sooner did Peter touch the frog with the tip of his 
finger, than lo, a most wonderful thing happened! With a 
hop and a bound the frog jumped right out of its skin and 
off through the open window. 

And the skin that it left on the floor? 

Ah, that was a skin no longer; it was now a beautiful green 
suit, all of silk and velvet. 

It took Peter only a minute to see that this suit was intended 
for him, and only another minute to get it upon his back. 
A fine suit it was, too; there were not many tailors could 
make a fit like that every day. Not one single kink or wrinkle 
was there anywhere; and as for looks, never Prince in all the 
realm wore clothes so beautiful. 

Peter opened the door and walked out, and the guard never 
even said “ Boo.” The guard thought Peter to be some fine 
noble, and doffed his cap and bowed very politely. 

Presently there was a blare of trumpets, and out of the 
gate came the King mounted on a fine charger, and beside 
the King rode the Princess, as sweet and lovely a little lady 
as ever one would care to see. Back of the Princess came 
the Provost’s two sons, bearing the two caskets, and back 
of these many lords and ladies. 

The Princess looked about here and there, bowing to one 
and nodding to another, until presently her eyes fell upon 
Peter. If any one were to say that sight pleased her, it would 
be to tell what was no more than the truth. 

When the King and the Princess had mounted the plat- 
form and were seated in their great gilded chairs, the King 

16 


Much from Little 

called forward the Provost’s two sons with their gold and 
silver caskets, and he said: “Willy-nilly, the Princess must 
now take her pick of one of these, for she has vowed and 
declared she would marry whoever brings her a dress, the 
finest in all the world, into the making of which there had 
gone no sorrow. Here, then, are two such dresses.” 

So the Princess must be taking a look at the two dresses 
again. 

First she was for having the gold one; then it was the 
silver one she thought the most beautiful. But any one with 
half an eye could see that the choice lay not with the two 
dresses, but with the two lads who bore them, and that neither 
of these was pleasing to the Princess. 

Yes, that is what any one with half an eye could see. But 
if any one used two eyes, and these were very sharp, it might 
easily be seen that not so much was the Princess thinking of the 
Provost’s two sons as of the lad yonder, in the fine green 
suit of silk and velvet. 

“ And is there not some other suitor, who, perchance, 
has arrived late?” That is what the Princess had to ask 
now. 

“ No, there are no others,” answered the King, and he told 
the Princess she was to take her pick of these two and be 
done with it. 

Well, the Princess did n’t say “ No ” to that, only first she 
would like to speak a word or two with the lad in green 
yonder. 

The King could see no sense in that, but he made no objec- 
tion if she would be quick about it. 

So presently Peter was brought before the Princess, who 
1 7 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

blushed very prettily and cast down her eyes as she let her 
fingers fall to playing with the folds of her dress. 

Did the lad have a gift for her? The Princess no more 
than whispered this question without once lifting her eyes. 

How the Provost’s two sons did laugh when they saw 
that the lad in green was only their servant, Peter. And so 
that simpleton was setting himself up to win the Princess, 
was he? Well, that would be a good joke to tell of when 
they were over in Noodleburg again. 

Peter was sorry he had no gift for the Princess. Of course 
there were those two caskets, which were really his; but who- 
ever would believe it if he told how they had been taken 
from him? 

The Princess was sorry also when Peter told her he had 
no gift to offer. “ That is too bad,” she said; “ now I sup- 
pose there is no help for it only to choose one of these cas- 
kets.” 

The Princess then handled the silver dress, but all the time, 
out of the corner of her eye, she was looking at Peter. Then 
it was the gold dress she handled; but never for a moment 
could she forget the lad in green. 

At last, with tears in her eyes, she turned to the great gath- 
ering of her subjects and said: “My beloved people, your 
Princess has pledged her word to take for her husband the 
one in all the land who brings to her a dress into the making 
of which has gone no sorrow. Two such dresses are now 
before me. Your Princess will keep her word. Your Prin- 
cess has made her choice, and will have for her husband, to 
sit beside her on the throne and rule one half of the king- 
dom, that one of these two whose dress is the color of spun — ” 

18 




Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stones 

“ Hold, my Princess ! ” 

It was Peter who cried this. 

“ Wait! Decide not until you see my gift, for I too have 
a gift for thee, even though it be but a small one.” 

As Peter spoke, he held out his hand; and in his palm 
there was only a little gray web which a spider had just left 
there. 

That was a poor enough gift indeed to offer a Princess, 
and how the Provost’s two sons did laugh ! 

The King stamped his foot and raved, as mad as could 
be. What did the lad in green mean by playing such a scurvy 
trick upon the Princess? The King would like an answer 
to that question. Where were the guards? Let them come 
at once and pack the lad off to prison. The King would n’t 
have any more delay or any more fooling; there had been 
too much of that already; the Princess was just to make her 
choice of either the gold or the silver dress, and be done 
with it. 

While the King was raving and stamping about, the Princess 
didn’t hear one single word that he said. She held out her 
hand to receive Peter’s gift; and, when she looked up into 
his face, the bright light that came dancing into her eyes drove 
away the tears very quickly, I can tell you. 

Peter dropped the web into her little hand, and no sooner 
did it feel that gentle touch than it all unfolded; no longer 
a spider’s web, but changed to a beautiful filmy dress, like 
unto a rainbow mist from Dreamland. 

It did n’t take long now for the Princess to get the whole 
story out of the lad in green. Then it was good to see the 
way the King’s lackeys made birch switches dance a jig upon 

20 


Much from Little 

the backs of the Provost’s two sons as they chased them 
through the town and out on the road to Noodleburg. 

Which one of them she would have chosen I do not know; 
but now it was the lad in green she would have, and it was 
easily seen he was the sort of a lad she had been waiting 
for. 

“ Well, you may have him if you wish,” said the King, 
“ but as for me, I will never give one half of the kingdom 
to a poor wood-chopper’s son with only one decent suit to 
his back, so there is no need to say any more words on that 
matter.” 

That speech of the King made no difference to the Princess 
and Peter, however. They were sure they would be very 
happy, even if they could n’t have one half of the kingdom. 
The Princess then said “ Good-by ” to Peter and started for 
the palace to prepare for the wedding, which she said would 
be held that very afternoon. As for Peter, the people bore 
him away on their shoulders to the finest inn in town, and all 
the while they were singing and cheering in greatest glee. 

When Peter reached his room at the inn, he must needs 
stand and wait in the hall, there was such a colony of ants 
swarming through the door as covered nearly one half the 
floor. Every ant bore in its mouth a grain of sand, and 
these they deposited in a little heap upon the floor. When 
the last ant had brought in its burden and departed, the mound 
began to glow and glimmer, to burn and crackle, to flash and 
sparkle, until presently there lay upon the floor, not a heap 
of sand, but more than a bushel of rich and rare jewels. 
Not a jewel in all that pile was smaller than a hazel-nut, some 
of them were much larger; and, besides diamonds, rubies, 

21 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

and sapphires, there was at least one of every other rare stone 
that one might mention. 

When the King learned of all these riches that had come 
to Peter he began to whistle a new tune. As for giving him 
half the kingdom, he was glad enough to do that now, I can 
tell you. It was n’t every day he could be sure of finding 
a clever lad like Peter. 

After the wedding, which was the finest ever held in that 
country, matters went very smoothly with poor Hans’s son, 
and he and the Princess lived together long and happily. 
When it came time for them to rule over the whole kingdom, 
they ruled wisely and justly and were greatly loved by all their 
subjects. 


22 


The Two Chests 


D OWN by the river bank, just outside of the town of 
Noodleburg, was the great windmill of Rich Peter. 
How it came about that he was called Rich Peter 
is more than I can tell, though in truth the matter 
seems not over-strange, since ’t is certain he had great store of 
riches. Some folk say (and indeed it has been so whispered 
to me) that Rich Peter got his riches by taking somewhat more 
of corn from each farmer’s bags than was his due for the mill- 
ing. Yet of this I cannot say for certain, but only know that 
he was a sour, crusty old fellow, with never a good word for 
a body, and nought save envy for any bit of luck that came 
tumbling to his neighbors. 

Now, joining the land of the miller, on a rough bit of stony 
• ground, was the house and farm of Hans, the brother of Rich 
Peter; and because but little would grow upon this farm, Hans 
got the name of Poor Hans. 

But if Hans and his good wife were poor, yet they always 
had enough to eat and a bit left over, and of clothes enough 
to keep them warm and one suit apiece for Sunday. So you 
see there was cause for joy in their house, and they never let 
sorrow get a warm nest in the corner. Indeed, Hans always 
went about his work with such a twinkle in his eye and such a 
laughing countenance that most folk got to calling him not Poor 

23 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Hans, but Happy Hans, which was a name, I think, quite 
worth the having. 

Well, one day when Hans had been to market with some 



parsnips and turnips and was returning whistling a merry 
tune as he sat astride his little donkey, between the two empty 
panniers, it happened that Rich Peter was riding that way also. 

24 


The Two Chests 

Down the road he came, dressed in his finest Sunday clothes 
and astride his big bay horse. Did he speak to Hans? Oh, 
no, Rich Peter would not speak to Hans. He just rode by 
with his nose high in the air and never a nod for anybody, 
and pretty soon was lost to sight in a bend in the roadway. 

Now just beyond this bend was another traveler — a little 
old lady with a basket of eggs tucked under her arm. 

“ How do you do, Master Miller? ” said the little old lady. 

But never a word did she get in reply. No, the miller just 
rode on with his nose high in the air, 
and the only answer that went to the 
little old lady was a cloud of dust that 
was kicked up about the horse’s 
feet. 

“ Ker-choo !” said the little old 
lady, “Ker-choo! Ker-choo! )} for 
the dust had made her sneeze and 
had gotten into her eyes. So she 
wiped her eyes, and, by then, along 
came Hans. 

“Oh, ho!” said Hans. Then, 
quick as a wink, he was in the road- 
way, and had picked up the dame, 
and had her seated between the pan- 
niers, without so much as breaking a 
single egg. 

Doffing his cap, Hans bowed in a courtly manner, and the 
dame bade him good day and laughed full merrily. After 
that, Hans took the donkey by the bridle and led it along the 
highway, and he and the little old lady fell to talking together 

25 




Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

of this and that and the other — as of the weather, and how 
the crops looked, and such like matters, — and in a little while 
they came to the gate before Hans’s house. So Hans helped 
her to alight from the donkey, and she thanked him for his 
kindness and said: 

“ Maybe, now, thou art called Happy Hans? ” 

Hans laughed merrily at this and said, “ Aye, good dame, 
so my neighbors name me.” 

“ Thou hast but a sorry farm to make thee happy and get 
thee such a name,” said the little old lady. “ Yet, perchance, 
an thou wouldst plow yonder hilltop, thy crop would be some- 
what bettered.” Then she took up her basket and went on 
her way. 

At her words, Hans laughed so loud and heartily that the 
good dame, his wife, must needs come out to see what it was 
all about. 

“ See ! ” said Hans, in answer to the good wife. “ Yonder 
dame bids me plow our stony hilltop and so get bigger crops. 
Didst ever hear a bigger joke?” and scarcely could he get 
these words out amidst his laughter. 

Well, the good wife thought it a jolly joke also, and that 
the crop was like to be no more than big stones. Then Hans 
unharnessed the donkey, and after that went in and sat down 
to a good dish of cabbage broth, and no more was said of 
the plowing that day. The next day Hans must needs go to 
the hilltop and look about a little, and so again on the day 
after; and in the end it came about that one morning, when the 
good wife looked that way, there was Hans with the donkey 
hooked to the plow turning the first furrow. 

“ Well,” said she, “ I will go out and give him a little help.” 

26 


The Two Chests 

Up the hill, then, she trudged and came to Hans just as the 
plow’s nose caught in a great flat stone. So they both took 
hold of the stone and heaved it over, and there, nigh where 
the stone was, what should they see glittering in the sun but 
a fine golden casket and, beside it, one of pewter! 

“ My, but here are treasures worth the finding! ” said Hans. 



“ Yes,” said* the good wife, “ here is a crop that is better 
than stones ! ” 

“ Aye, or turnips either, for that matter,” said Hans. 

Well, after they had looked on the caskets some little time 
in wonder, they took up the gold one; and when they saw how 
nicely it was wrought, the good wife spoke and said: 

2 7 


Will Bradley's W onderb ox Stories 

“ See, Hans, if we take this one, folk will ask how we came 
by it, and they will say: ‘ Happy Hans is turned thief; bet- 
ter he had remained Poor Hans.’ Then, when it comes to 
the ear of the provost, mayhap thou wilt be hailed before the 
king and cast into prison. What say you, Husband, shall we 
not put it again beneath the rock and take only the pewter 
one, which will look so fine on the mantel above the fire? ” 

Yes, the good wife said all this to Hans; and as for Hans 
— well, he had eyes that could see more than the shell to that 
nut and that a good bit pi truth lay in the kernel. 

So in the end it was done as the good wife wished, and they 
took away with them only the casket of pewter and left the 
one of gold beneath the rock on the hilltop. 

“ See, Husband,” said the good wife, when they had placed 
the casket upon the mantel, “ does it not look fine? ” 

“ That it does! ” said Hans. “ What think you it can con- 
tain? ” 

Well, the good wife could n’t answer that, but they might 
look and see. So they had it down off the mantel and found 
no trouble in opening the lid. Inside was only a bit of parch- 
ment on which was written : 

Hah, ant) it aball be tbine till tbou baat enough* 

“ Now, Wife, what think you can be the meaning of this? ” 
said Hans. 

But though they puzzled long on the matter, neither one 
could find an answer. 

“ Humph! ” said Hans, at last. “ Wife, I am getting hun- 
gry. I wish we might have dinner.” 

Crash ! Bang! Boom! There was a flash of red light 
28 


The Two Chests 

in the box, and out hopped two funny little men, who straight- 
way went about laying the table with all sorts of good things 
to eat. So quickly did they do this, that Hans and his good 
wife had scarcely recovered their senses when they saw more 
food before them than Neighbor Hinckle- 
fitz had on the day of the mayor’s visit, 
and that was a good lot, I can tell you ! 

“ Hold! ” said the good wife, who was 
a careful, thrifty body and did not like 
waste. u Surely there is enough here for 
this day and to-morrow! ” 

At the word “ Enough ” the little men vanished back into 
the casket and closed the lid. 

Well, that was a fine meal for Hans to sit down to, you 
may be sure, and such cooking as even the. good wife said 
she had never tasted before ! When they had eaten their fill 
and had put away, on a shelf in the cupboard, what remained, 
Hans lent a hand in clearing away the dishes. 

“ Wife,” said he, “ that was a fine dinner we have just 
eaten. I wish the donkey out in the 
barn might have as good.” 

Crash! Boom! Bang! 

Up flew the lid of the casket, then 
there was the red light, and quick as 
a wink the two little men were out in 
the barn feeding oats to the donkey. 

Hans and the good wife were not frightened this time, for 
they had seen the casket act that way before, only they did 
not know it was in answer to Hans’s wish. 

In a little while the dishes were all wiped and put away. 

29 




Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Then Hans and the good wife got them ready to go to town, 
and started for the barn to harness the donkey. 

My, what a sight there was to meet their gaze ! There was 
the barn bursting full and running over 
with oats, and the two little men shovel- 
ing in more as fast as ever a body could 
shovel ! 

“Hold!” said Hans, for he feared 
the donkey would be smothered. 
“ There are enough oats here for a year 
and a day ! ” 

At that word “ Enough,” the two lit- 
tle men vanished, and the click of the 
lid told that they were again back in 
the casket. 

As you will guess, when Hans and the 
good wife put their heads together, they 
found it not hard to discover the secret of the casket. Then 
matters went pretty smoothly in that house, you may be sure. 
There was always enough and to spare on the pantry shelf, 
and a bolt or two of good linen in the 
closet. 

Said the neighbors: “Happy Hans 
has a thrifty wife; see how they prosper, 
and on such a poor bit of land, too.” 

But of course the neighbors knew noth- 
ing of the little pewter casket on the man- 
tel above the fire. 

Meanwhile, how were matters going with Rich Peter? 
Well, it did n’t take half a look for Rich Peter to see that mat- 

30 




The Two Chests 

ters were better than well with Happy Hans. “ Humph ! ” 
said he, as he rubbed his nose, “ we shall see! ” So one day, 
rap, tap, tap , — there was Rich Peter at the door of Happy 
Hans. 

“ Good day to you, Brother,” said Rich Peter. 

u Good day to you, Brother,” said Happy 
Hans. 

Then a plate was laid at the table for Rich 
Peter, and he tucked beneath his napkin as fine 
a meal as ever might be had at the mayor’s 
house. 

“ Ahem! ” began Rich Peter, when the meal 
was finished. But that was only the beginning, and the end 
was just this: that from Hans and his good wife he got the 
whole story of the pewter casket. 

Then Rich Peter rode off to town, and rap , tap, tap — this 
time it was at the door of the provost’s house. 

When Rich Peter and the provost got their heads together, 
only this could come of it, that 
Happy Hans must give up the 
pewter casket. Yes, that was 
what the provost said when 
he came to Hans’s house the 
next day. Of course when the 
provost said this, Hans knew 
there were no two ways out of it. 

So the casket was taken to the house of the rich miller, and 
there it was to be share and share alike with Rich Peter and 
the provost. 

“ What shall we wish for first? ” said the provost. 

3i 




Will Bradley’s Wonderbox Stories 

“ Oh, thus and so,” said Rich Peter. 

“ No, that wouldn’t do,” said the provost; “ it must be so 
and so.” 

In this way they got to quarreling, the miller wanting one 
thing and the provost another, and in the end there was no 
wish made that day, or the next, or the day after. 

While matters were going this 
way at the home of Rich Peter, the 
larder was ever getting lower at 
the home of Happy Hans. 

“ Wife,” said Hans one day, 
“ let us go take a look at the gold 
casket. For see, the provost has taken away the pewter one, 
and he can do no more with the other.” 

After that it was n’t long before the gold casket was on 
the mantel where had been the one of pewter, and no great 
time passed before Hans and the good wife had the lid open 
and found another parchment, on which was written: 

Baft, anb tbou sbalt bave till tbou art content. 

About this time Rich Peter had begun to wonder how mat- 
ters were going with Happy Hans. And the thought : “ Now 
he is like to be feeling pretty poor without the casket. I will 
go and see.” And so rap , tap , tap — there was Rich Peter 
at the door of Happy Hans’s house, just as Hans and his good 
wife were reading the scroll. 

Quick as a wink Hans had the parchment in his pocket and 
the casket back on the mantel. Then it was “ Good day to 
you, Brother Hans,” and “ Good day to you, Brother Peter ”; 

32 



The Two Chests 

and there was Rich Peter in the room with his eyes on the 
casket. 

Now this time, Rich Peter was n’t going to bother with 
the provost — no ! It might be share and share alike with a 
pewter casket, but a gold casket he was going to get all for him- 
self. How much did Hans want for it? That was the ques- 
tion he asked now. “ Well, of course Hans did n’t want to 
sell, but then might not the provost take this one away, also? 
Yes, that was what the provost was like to do. So, in the 
end, Rich Peter went off with the casket, and Hans had a hun- 
dred good gold dollars jingling in his pocket, and, as my neigh- 
bor across the way says, many a man has had less. 

Now, when Rich Peter came to the mill, there was the pro- 
vost waiting in the doorway. 

“ See, Peter,” said the provost, “ since we cannot decide 
which of our wishes will be best, let us wish that each get what 
he most should have.” 

Yes, Peter saw no reason why they 
should n’t make that wish. But by this time 
the provost had spied the gold casket. 

“ Humph ! what have you there ? ” said the 
provost. 

“ Oh, this is just another casket I have 
bought from Hans,” said the miller. 

Well, that was all right, but since they had now decided upon 
a wish, why not ask it of the gold casket — that was what the 
provost suggested. 

“ There can be no harm in giving him one wish,” thought 
Peter. So they put the casket before them and made ready 
to wish. 



33 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

“ Give us that which each most should have ! ” said they 
both at once. 

Crash! Boom ! Bang! And now the light from the gold 
casket was green, and out came two little men, and in the hand 
of each was a big club ! Then how they did pommel the mil- 
ler and the provost until there was such screeching, yelling, 
and dancing as never was heard before in Noodleburg. 

“ Enough, enough ! ” cried the provost. 

“Enough, enough!” cried Rich Peter. 

No good came of all their crying though, for now they 
should have said “ Content ” as ’t was written on the parch- 
ment. 

Well, at all this racket, out came the miller’s wife, and now 
nothing would do but she must hurry off and get Hans, else 
Rich Peter and the provost were like to get 
such a drubbing as would make their bones 
ache for many a month and a day over. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Hans, when he reached the 
mill, “ I will stop the little men. But we must 
make a bit of a bargain first.” 

That was all right, said the miller and the 
provost, only he was to be quick about it. 
Well, just so and so, that was all Hans wanted. 
Now the miller and the provost made pretty 
wry faces over this bargain, only you could n’t tell this from 
the wry faces they made over their drubbing; and since there 
were no two words to be said on the subject, it was just “ Yes.” 
And then Hans said “ Content,” and back into the casket went 
the two little men. 

After that the miller and the provost were taken into the 
34 



The Two Chests 


house and put to bed, and ’t was many a long day ere they 
went about without a limp. As for Hans, he just put the two 
caskets into a basket, and, with a hundred gold dollars from 
the provost a-jingling in his pocket, started off home. 

For that was the bargain he had made. 

Hans had n’t gone far along the road 
when he saw right before him that same lit- 
tle old woman with her basket of eggs. 

“ Good day to you, Dame! ” said Hans. 

“ Good day to you, Happy Hans,” said 
the dame. Then Hans took her basket, 
and with that under one arm and the basket 
of caskets under the other, they went along merrily together 
until they came to the gate before the house of Hans. 

“ Thank you ! ” said the old lady. 

“ Good day to you,” said Hans. Then he gave her the bas- 
ket and went to look for the good wife. When he had found 
her, then of course they must peep into the basket at the 
caskets. 

Oh me, oh my, what a sight that was that met their gaze ! 
No caskets were in the basket, no, not a sign of any! — only 
just a few dozen nice fresh eggs. Yes, just as sure as my old 
black cat has six white kittens, Hans had given the old dame 
the wrong basket! 

What she ever did with those caskets is more than I can 
tell, but I just wish I could get a peep at them some day — I 
know what I would wish. 

“What of Hans?” you ask. Well, a body who has two 
hundred round gold dollars on the shelf can well be called 
Happy Hans. Don’t you think so? 

35 



Hans and the Hoop of G old 

O NCE upon a time, many, many years ago, when 
Noodleburg was not the great and flourishing city 
that it is to-day, there lived in the Blue Castle a 
Young King who was so good and rich and pow- 
erful that of all the princesses in the world there was not a 
one that would not have been glad to become his bride. 

Upon a day when the Young King was gazing into his magic 
crystal globe, he saw mirrored on its polished surface such a 
marvelously beautiful Damsel as never had he dreamed of in 
all the days of his life. 

“ She it is whom I will choose for my bride,” said he, and 
out into the world he rode to find her. 

Now it happened that in the Blue Mountains just beyond 
Noodleburg there lived a Witch who was such a mistress of 
the Black Arts as might not be found in many a day’s journey. 

Of course this Witch knew all that was happening in the 
whole world. But most especially she kept an eye and an 
ear open to those comings and goings which most concerned 
the Young King of Blue Castle. 

So it was not strange that on the day when the Young King 
gazed into his magic crystal the Witch saw all that he saw; and 
moreover she knew, also, that this was the work of a Good 

36 


Hans and the Hoop of Gold 

Fairy who wanted the Young King to marry the sweetest 
and dearest maiden in all the realm beyond the Blue Moun- 
tains. 

Yes, the Witch knew all this and more too, and it didn’t 
take her long to brew a pot of trouble. From delving and 
searching in her great books she 
had learned this, that, and the 
other in the Black Arts of weaving 
magic spells, so that, when the 
Young King had traveled a bit of 
his journey and had come to the 
first of the Blue Mountains, he was 
met by a Damsel for all the world 
like that one he had seen in his 
magic crystal. 

Now the Young King felt a 
great joy, and he thought, “ Here 
at last I have found my bride!” 

But just then a Butterfly brushed 
against his eyes, and, as the touch 
of its wings made him wink and 
blink, he saw that really it was not the Damsel at all who stood 
before him, but only the wicked Witch. 

“Be gone!” said the Young King, and he would have 
driven her away with his sword; but quick as a wink the Witch 
again took her own shape, and working a magic spell, she 
changed the Young King into a great Frog. 

If the Good Fairy had not changed herself into a Butterfly 
in order to give magic sight to the Young King, she might have 
found some way to prevent such an awful happening. Now, 

37 



Will Bradley's W onderbox Stories 

however, she was fluttering in the sunlight high over head and 
could do nothing. 

So the Young King was doomed to remain a Frog until such 
a time as he would be given to drink the Water of Life from 
the Green Grotto in the depths of the Blue Mountains. That 
doom was like to last for many a year, for who would ever 
find and take to him the wonderful Water of Life? 

Listen and I will tell you : 

Hans was a poor wood-chopper. 

He lived on the edge of the hills over beyond Noodleburg. 

Each morning Hans would shoulder his ax and go into the 
great forest, and at night he would shoulder his bundle of 
fagots and trudge cheerfully home again. 

Day in and day out that was the life of Hans, and always, 
as he stepped along one foot before the other, there would 
come rippling over his lips such a merry whistling tune as was 
a joy to hear. Even the little birds hopped from tree to tree 
and flew gaily overhead, so glad they were to keep him 
company. 

In the midst of the forest the pines grew big and tall and 
so wondrous straight that nothing would do but the Burgo- 
master must have them for masts for his ships. So on a day 
there was great hewing and chopping and the chips flew thick 
and fast until, when night came, only one gnarled and twisted 
old hollow tree was left standing. 

“ See,” said the boss chopper to Hans, “ yonder blighted 
tree mars the glade; cut it down and thou mayest have the 
wood.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Hans, and he thought: “Here 
38 


Hans and the Hoop of Gold 

will be fagots a-plenty, and good tough logs into the bar- 
gain. To-morrow I will come early and mayhap earn a sil- 
ver penny or two ere sundown.” 

On the morrow Hans was astir before sun-up, and thus 
it happened he came into the woodland while the elves and 
fays and other wood-folk were yet abroad. Thus also it 
happened that when he would have let 
his ax bite deep into the tree-trunk, there 
hopped out of the hollow a queer Little 
Man dressed all in green except that on ^(\ 
his head was a cap of red with a long 
feather. 

“ Good morning,” said the Little Man, 
doffing his red cap. 

Well, the end of that matter was just 
this: Here was an old hollow tree in 
which the Little Man had lived for many 
a day, and now would Hans spare it until 
the Little Man could look about and find a new abode? 

Why, yes, Hans would surely do that ! But see — how 
would the Little Man like to go home and live with Hans? 
He might have a snug corner in which to sleep, with each night 
a bowl of broth and each morning a plate of porridge, and 
on Sundays and holidays a slice or two of good white bread 
and cheese. 

My, how the Little Man skipped and danced in glee when 
he heard that offer! He knew Luck when it came stepping 
his way. 

Hans, too, picked up a piece of Luck that morning. This 
is how it happened : 



The Little Man. 


39 


Will Bradley's W onderbox Stories 

Some woodland folk are full of tricks and always playing 
pranks. Once such a one comes to live in your house, the 
milk will sour before the cream rises, the hens will stop lay- 
ing, the sheep will stray, and Trouble will ever toast his toes 
on your hearth. 

The Little Man in Green was not that kind. 

He brought Good Luck to Hans. 

All the milk turned to good rich cream. The hens never 
stopped laying, and often the eggs had two yolks. More than 
that. Each night when Hans was asleep the Little Man 
would whisper in his ear strange and wonderful dreams ! 

One night the Little Man told Hans of a beautiful Blue 
Castle over beyond the mountains, and of three Giants and 
a marvelous Hoop of Gold, and of the treasure that would 
go to any one who possessed that Hoop of Gold. 

Next morning nothing would do but Hans must make that 
journey over the mountains. So he put on the fine uniform 
Herr Mayor had given him when he was in the army. Then, 
shouldering his gun, he stepped out, one foot before the other, 
whistling merrily as was always his custom. 

All day he traveled and all night, and by sun-rise he came 
to the mountains. 

There was the Giant sitting on a big stone at the base of the 
first foot-hills. 

When the Giant saw a soldier approaching, he drew his 
sword and bellowed such a big laugh that the trees bent and 
shook as in a wild storm. 

Hans was not at all afraid and marched right on until he 
was so close the Giant had to stoop to see him. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Giant/’ said Hans. 

40 


Hans and the Hoop of Gold 

“ Good morning, Little Soldier,” said the Giant. 

Was this the road to the Blue Castle? Hans would like to 
know. Yes, this was the road, and what did Hans want at 
the Blue Castle? Oh, only the Hoop of Gold — that was all 
Hans wanted. Well, it took a brave person to get the Hoop 



The Giant. 


of Gold. Could Hans fight with his sword? Yes, Hans 
could fight; they taught him that in the army. Would the 
Giant like to try a bout with him? H-m y h-m — the Giant 
didn’t care much about fighting, for he thought: “If this 
Little Soldier is as strong as he is brave, I may get a good 

41 


Will Bradley's W onderb ox Stories 

whipping.” And all the while he felt Hans’ sword pressing 
against the point of his. 

Well, the end of that talk was just this: If Hans would 
travel all day and all night, he would come to the valley, at 
the base of the second foot-hills, where lived the Giant’s 
Brother. Hans was to whisper so-and-so, and so-and-so, and 
the Giant’s Brother might tell him a thing or two worth the 
knowing. 



He felt Hans’ sword pressing against the point of his.” 


Hans now bade the Giant good-by; and when he had traveled 
a day and a night, he came to a great cave, and there was 
the Giant’s Brother at breakfast, and as like he was to the 
first Giant as two peas in a pod. 

“ So-and-so, and so-and-so,” whispered Hans, so low that 
42 


Hans and the Hoop of Gold 

even I do not know the words of that message. But it must 
have been very important, for the Giant’s Brother, who had 
sharp ears and could hear half-way around the world, jumped 
quickly to his feet and, picking Hans up, set him in a little 
chair on the table. 

The Hoop of Gold — that was what Hans was looking for, 
was it? Very good. But the Hoop of Gold was a treasure 



beyond price; how did Hans propose to get it? Did n’t Hans 
know that the Hoop of Gold was guarded by the Giant’s 
Other Brother who lived in the Blue Mountains up yonder? 

“Why so-and-so, and so-and-so,” whispered Hans; and at 
that the Giant shook his head wisely and said, “Why, yes; 
that is so.” 


43 



Will Bradley’s Wonderbox Stones 

Then he gave Hans a good meal, and when the last crumb 
had been tucked away, he said, “ Remember, so-and-so, and so- 
and-so.” 

“ I won’t forget,” said Hans, and marched off. 

Another day and a night Hans traveled to the very base 
of the Blue Mountains, and there sat the Giant’s Second 
Brother, and as like he was to the other two as three peas in 
a pod. 

Yes, the Giant’s Second Brother was Keeper of the Hoop 
of Gold. Hans might take a look at it, but as for carrying it 
away, they would talk that over later. 

When the Hoop of Gold was brought, Hans thought he had 
never seen anything so beautiful. He looked at it this way 
and that way and the other. Then he put his head in the 
Hoop and looked through, and no sooner did he do this than 
he saw all that had happened to the Young King. Yes, he 
saw it all, from the beginning to the very end. 

“ I must go and find the Water of Life,” said he, “ and 
release the Young King. This Hoop of Gold can wait until 
I return.” 

“ That is easier promised than done,” said the Giant’s 
Second Brother. “ The Water of Life is in the Green Grotto 
guarded by the Black Lion. Before you reach the Green 
Grotto, you must pass the old Witch, and lucky it will be for 
you if she turn you not into an owl or a bat or some other fly- 
by-night.” 

“ Oh, so-and-so, and so-and-so,” whispered Hans. 

“ Why, that is so ! ” said the Giant’s Second Brother. And 
the upshot of the matter was that he went out behind the 
house and caught a nice fat Pig on which he threw a saddle 

44 


Hans and the Hoop of Gold 

and bridle; and when all was ready, Hans mounted and set 
off at a smart trot. 

By and by the path led to a great black wood, and there at 
the entrance stood the Witch. How she did laugh when she 
saw Hans astride the Pig, for she thought: “ Here will be a 
fine meal for my Black Lion in the Green Grotto yonder! ” 
So she let them pass into the Black Forest. 

Better it had been for the Witch, I can tell you, if she had 



“ There sat the lion guarding the entrance.” 


not let those two ride past, for the nice fat Pig was no less 
a one than — but wait a minute and we shall see ! 

When the two came near the Grotto, there sat the Lion 
guarding the entrance; and no sooner did he see them than up 
he jumped. Then off jumped Hans, and away scampered the 
nice fat Pig, and after the Pig went the Lion. 

When the Pig came again to the entrance of the forest and 
could see the Witch, it ran behind a tree; and in a moment it 

45 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

was no longer a Pig, but the Good Fairy, who quickly wove a 
magic spell. And now it was the wicked Witch who was 
changed to a Pig. 

Away ran the Witch, and after her the Lion. If the Lion 



Hans straightway carried the crystal goblet to the Frog King.” 


ever caught the Witch I was not near to see, but at least I 
know she had a good scare. 

As for Hans, he was in the Green Grotto filling a crystal 
goblet with the Water of Life, which straightway he carried 
to the Frog King, who, when he had taken a drink, became 
again a beautiful Young King. 

46 





Hans and the Hoop of Gold 

After this they all went back to the Giant’s Second Brother, 
who now gave Hans the Hoop of Gold. 

“ Thank you! ” said Hans. “ This Hoop of Gold is very 
fine; too fine, I think, for a poor wood-chopper, whose neigh- 
bors would all say: ‘ Hans has the Hoop of Gold; he is too 
proud now to speak to us.’ Then they would all shun me, and 
at night I should have to watch it to keep away robbers. But 
anyhow, it is a fine Hoop. See, shall we not roll it down 
this hill-side? ” 

All the while Hans said this, the Good Fairy smiled hap- 
pily, and when Hans started the hoop rolling, she stood on 
her tiptoes and clapped her hands in glee. 

Down the hill it traveled, bounding from rock to rock until 
it reached the bottom, when crash! hang! it burst into a thou- 
sand pieces, and each piece was one of the Young King’s 
Knights, all in glistening armor. Yes, those pieces were the 
Knights who had gone to the Blue Mountains to rescue the 
Young King and had been wrought into the Hoop by the 
wicked Witch! 

The Young King would have taken Hans back with him 
to his Blue Castle, where he would have made him a Duke 
or a Baron or something of that sort. But Hans did n’t care 
for riches, so he thanked the Young King and said he thought 
he would just be jogging along home. Then they shook hands 
and parted, and the Young King certainly looked very fine as 
he rode off with all his Knights. Never did the sun shine on 
a braver array of silvery armor and bright pennons. 

As for Hans, when he again reached home, he married 
Neighbor Pfitz’s daughter, and everything went well with him 
from that time on. The Little Man in Green had disap- 

47 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

peared, and Hans never saw him again. I suspect the Good 
Fairy had something to do with Hans’ finding him that time 
in the hollow tree — but of that I do not know for sure and 
certain. 

What of the Young King? And did he ever find the beau- 
tiful Damsel? 

Why, yes. But that is another story. 


The Master Makes a Bargain 

O NE fine day the Master of Black Arts came step- 
ping into Noodleburg. He was looking for a 
servant. Yes, the master had his eye here, there, 
and around the corner, as the saying goes, for a 
likely-looking lad to go traveling with him. 

Master Jacob was sitting on the front stoop of his mother’s 
house, whistling a merry tune and thinking ’t was fine weather 
for fishing. 

“ Good day to you, Jacob,” said the master. 

“ Good day, sir,” said Jacob. 

And how would Jacob like to go traveling? 

Oh, that would n’t be so bad, thought Jacob, but where was 
the gentleman going? 

“ Oh, just over the hills into the next town yonder.” 

And see, if Jacob cared to go, there were fine sights and 
good wages to be had into the bargain. 

“ And what might the wages be? ” That was what Jacob 
would like to know, for he was a good stout lad, and had to 
be earning a penny or two as the days jogged along. 

They were good wages the master had to offer, and that 
was sure and certain. Listen : for three days the master would 
serve Jacob, and he might have all v could wish for; after 

49 



“Master Jacob was sitting on the front stoop of his mother’s house, whistling a 
merry tune ana thinking ’t was fine weather for fishing.” 


50 


The Master Makes a Bargain 

that — well, after that Jacob was just to serve the master, and 
go errands, and help at this, that, and the other; and all the 
time he was to wear good clothes, have enough to eat, and a 
warm seat in the corner by the fire. 

Well, those were pretty fine wages, and no mistake about 
that! Yes, Jacob would be glad to strike such a bargain. 
So they shook hands on the matter, and set forth on their 
travels. 

When it was evening, they came into the great town over 
the hills and went to the inn, where the master ordered a good 
dinner and the best of everything. 

“ Now I am traveling with Luck as a way-fellow,” thought 
Jacob, when he had cleaned the last crumb from off his plate 
and had pushed his chair back from the table. But that is 
the way a lad always feels after he has tucked away a good 
meal. As for the master, he just chuckled; for you see, he 
knew how to spread thick honey on a crust, and not in the 
way luck does it, either. 

Next morning Jacob was for taking a walk about the town. 
Had he any wish for the master to grant? No, not yet. He 
was just for seeing what kind of a house it was where Herr 
Mayor lived. Oh, as for Herr Mayor’s house, why, that 
was only over the way yonder. Jacob would have no trouble 
finding it. And while he was gone, the master would wait 
right there in the inn. If Jacob should want anything, why, 
here was a little horn, and all that need be done was just to 
blow three blasts. 

Now when Jacob came to Herr Mayor’s house there was 
Gretchen, Herr Mayor’s daughter, picking roses in the front 
garden — as good a sight as was to be seen in all that town. 

5i 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Toot! toot! toot! Jacob blew upon the horn; and sure 
enough, there was the master coming around the corner! 

“ See, Master,” said Jacob, “ I would like to marry Herr 
Mayor’s daughter.” 

“ Well, Herr Mayor would never consent to Gretchen mar- 
rying a poor lad like you, Jacob, so that is not to be thought 
of.” That ’s what the master said. Then he took the little 
tin horn and blew three blasts, and, at the third blast, they 
were in a beautiful house with servants to wait upon them and 
everything as fine as might be. 

Now Jacob was for starting off at once to see Herr Mayor, 
so he put on a fine suit of silk and velvet, and a hat with a 
great plume. Then he buckled on a beautiful sword, and, 
mounting a fine mottled horse which the servants brought, 
was soon clattering down the street. 

Herr Mayor was seated in the garden, puffing away at his 
long-stemmed pipe. 

“ Good day, sir,” said Jacob. 

“ Good day,” said Herr Mayor. 

Would Herr Mayor give his daughter to Jacob for his 
wife? That was what Jacob had come to see about. 

“ Prut! Out upon him ! ” Herr Mayor would not hear 
any such talk as that. 

But listen: Jacob had a fine house around the corner, with 
servants and horses, and a bag of gold dollars upon the 
shelf. 

Well, if that was so, Herr Mayor might think about it. 
And now, how would Jacob like to stay and have dinner? 

Jacob did n’t say no to that, you may be sure ! 

Just then, in comes Gretchen with a great basket of roses. 

52 








Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Only one look did she take at Jacob; then she cast down her 
eyes, and all of the color in the roses jumped right up into 
her cheeks, so it was very easy to see how the wind was blowing 
in that quarter. No strange matter was that, either, for a 
finer lad than Jacob was not to be met with every day. 

After dinner was over (and a fine dinner it was, too) Herr 
Mayor was ready to talk over that matter of the marrying. 
It was all right and good for the lad to have a fine house, and 
horses, and servants, and a bag of gold dollars on the shelf, 
he said; all that would come handy when they set up house- 
keeping. But — there were other lads with fine houses in 
the town, and any one would be glad of a lass like Gretchen. 
So Herr Mayor had said once and again that the lass was 
only to marry such a lad as would fetch him the Pewter Tank- 
ard from the Red House in the Black Valley over the hill 
yonder. 

When Herr Mayor said this, he thought he would be rid of 
Jacob, and no mistake, for it was no common tankard they had 
over there in the Red House. No, that was a tankard worth 
the having, I can tell you ! It was full to the brim of good 
brown ale, and no matter how much a body might spill or 
drink, why, the tankard would never be empty, but always 
have a good draught to quench one’s thirst on a hot day. 

But Herr Mayor knew nothing of that bargain Jacob had 
made with the Master of Black Arts. 

Off Jacob started then, and no sooner was he on the other 
side of his own door, than toot! toot! toot! — there were the 
blasts tumbling out of the little tin horn. 

“What can I do to serve you now, Jacob?” said the 
master. 


54 


« 



“Just then, in comes 


Gretchen with a fine 


basket of roses.” 





55 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Oh, Herr Mayor said so and so, and so and so; and Jacob 
couldn’t have Gretchen until he fetched the Pewter Tankard 
from the Red House in the Black Valley over the hill yonder. 

“Humph! ” and the master began to rub his nose. That 
was a task Herr Mayor had set them, and no two words 
about that. But it might be done. Jacob was just to sit in 
the corner and wait. 

Then the master went to where there stood a copper brazier 
in which were a few live coals, and he drew forth from his 
pocket a little silver vial and shook from it three white crys- 
tals. These he let fall into the brazier. Into this mist the 
master leaped, and immediately he was changed into a great 
eagle which went flying through the open window, over the 
tree-tops, and away off towards the hills. 

Over the hills the eagle soared, and there before it was the 
great Black Valley, and in the midst of the valley was the 
Red House. 

Now the Red House was so named because within it there 
was always burning a mighty fire; so that not only through the 
windows, but also through the walls, there was always to be 
seen the red, glowing heat. 

When the eagle drew near to the Red House, the air be- 
came so hot that it might go no further. So it alighted upon 
the ground, and, looking about among the moss and leaves, 
found a tiny red berry. This it ate ; when lo, it changed into 
a little gray mole ! 

Into the ground the mole burrowed, and went on and on, 
until by and by it was right beneath the house. Then it poked 
its nose up through the ground, and there it was, right in the 
fire, and smoke began to arise from the burning hair upon its 

56 


The Master Makes a Bargain 

back. Then, quick as a wink, the master transformed him- 
self from the mole into the smoke and went sailing up through 
the red flames within the house until he was in the topmost 
room of the topmost tower, and there, in the very heart of the 
blaze, stood the Pewter Tankard! Then the smoke put out 
its arms, and grasped the tankard, and bore it up, up, up, until 
it was far above the house. Then it drifted away and was 
soon resting on a hilltop on the very rim of the valley. 

After that, it was only the work of a moment for the mas- 
ter to change again to an eagle. Then, with the tankard 
grasped in its great claws, over the hills it soared, and pres- 
ently was back in the house with Jacob. 

By this time it was evening, and when the master had again 
assumed his own shape and Jacob had the tankard, there was 
nothing to do but to wait until to-morrow before going to see 
Herr Mayor. 

So passed one of the three days in which the master was 
to serve Jacob, and but two remained. 

On the morrow Jacob sent two of his servants to Herr 
Mayor’s house with the Pewter Tankard, and might Jacob 
come and marry Gretchen? That was what the servants were 
to ask Herr Mayor. 

Well, Herr Mayor was good and glad to get the Pewter 
Tankard, and that was the truth. But Jacob could not have 
Gretchen yet. No, Herr Mayor would n’t, would n’t give up 
Gretchen for a Pewter Tankard. If Jacob was bent on hav- 
ing the lass, he was just to fetch Herr Mayor the White Pipe 
from the Yellow House that was in the Green Valley over the 
hills yonder. 

This time Herr Mayor was sure it would be the end of 
57 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Jacob. For the White Pipe was a famous one, and no mat- 
ter how much one puffed at the long stem, why, there was 
always a good smoke left in the bowl, and the troll who lived 
in the Yellow House was n’t one to part with such a treasure 
easily. 

And now would the master get Jacob the White Pipe? 
That was what Jacob had to ask when the servants brought 
back Herr Mayor’s message. 

Well, that was another hard task, but it might be done. 
Jacob was just to sit in the corner and wait again. 

Off went the master, and pretty soon he came to the bank 
of a stream. Then he poked around until he had found a 
good handful of clean white sand. This he threw into the 
air right above the stream; and when it came down, there he 
was, changed into a beautiful silver fish, which no sooner 
touched the water than away it darted like a swift flash of 
sunlight. 

Down the stream the fish swam, and by and by came into 
a broad lake in the heart of the Green Valley. In the midst 
of the lake was an island, and on the island was a queer Yellow 
House. 

Now when the master in the form of the silver fish came 
to the lake, there was the troll sitting on a rock before the 
house, fishing. Then the master caught at the line and gave 
it a twitch; and immediately the troll began to tug and pull, 
until presently there was the silver fish flopping upon the bare 
rock. 

After that, it was n’t long until the troll had the fish up to 
the house and on the table in the kitchen. Then he went out 

58 


The Master Makes a Bargain 

to get some faggots, for he was n’t going to waste any time 
before he had a fine fish like that frying on the fire for his 
dinner. 

As soon as the troll was out of the door, the master opened 
his eyes and looked about — and there was the White Pipe 
hanging over the mantel. Quick as a wink, he changed into 
a long-legged stork, and then he could barely reach the pipe 
with the tip of his bill. 

Just then the troll came in with the faggots and that was 
like to have been the end of the master. For no sooner did 
the troll see the stork with the pipe in its bill, than down 
tumbled all of the faggots but one, and with this in his hand 
and a wild yell upon his lips he went after the bird as fast 
as his legs could carry him. 

But the master was too quick for the troll, and now he 
changed into a black cat, bounding between the troll’s legs 
and out through the doorway before there was any chance 
of having his bones rapped with the faggot. 

After him came the troll. But now when the master reached 
the rock, he gave one leap into the air, and, when he struck 
the water, there he was a silver fish again. 

Well, after that it was a long swim back again; but at last 
the master reached that place where he had entered the stream. 
So there he took his own form again and was soon back in 
the house where Jacob was waiting for him. 

By now it was evening again; and so the second day had 
passed, and only one day remained. 

On the morrow Jacob did n’t send any servants with the 
White Pipe to Herr Mayor. No, he just tucked it under 

59 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

his arm, and presently, rap , tap, tap , might he see Herr 
Mayor? Yes, he was told, Herr Mayor was before the fire 
in the big hall. 

And now Jacob had come for Gretchen. See, here was the 
White Pipe. And yesterday he had sent Herr Mayor the 
Pewter Tankard. What had Herr Mayor to say in the 
matter now? 

Of course Herr Mayor had to hem and haw a bit, but in 
the end it came about that Jacob was to have Gretchen. For 
now that Herr Mayor had a good pipe that would always 
be full, and a tankard of good brown ale always a-simmering 
on the hearth, why, he could think of no more to ask for. 
As for Jacob, well, he was n’t the kind of a lad that would take 
no for an answer. So everything was made ready for the 
wedding which was to be held that very evening. 

When Jacob got that word from Herr Mayor, he was as 
gay as might be, and he went back and ordered this, that, and 
the other from the master, until there was never a thing a 
body might think of that was n’t to be found somewhere about 
the house. All day he was whistling, and singing, and trying 
on his fine clothes, and never once did he think of that bar- 
gain he had made with the master. This might not be said 
of the master, though, and already he had begun to chuckle 
and count the hours, for on the morrow he would have Jacob 
whistling a new tune. 

Such a fine wedding as that was would take many a page 
to tell of. But this you must know : the table was loaded down 
with all manner of good things to eat, there was singing and 
dancing, and never a soul there but thought he had never had 
such a fine time before. 


60 


The Master Makes a Bargain 

While all this was going on, the master was skting at home 
in the corner. 

Then the clock struck nine. 

“ A ^a ! ” said the master. “ I will just take a bit of a stroll 



over to Herr Mayor’s house, and see how matters are going 
with my servant Jacob.” And he chuckled when he thought 
how the lad had but three hours more of freedom. 

“ Ten! ” struck the clock at Herr Mayor’s house, and there 
was the master, dressed like a servant, grinning and laugh- 

61 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stones 

mg, and counting the hours — one — two — three — just as 
they were being struck by the clock. 

Eleven o’clock! And this time the master was grinning 
quite dreadfully, and calling “ One ! Two ! Three ! ” after 
each stroke. 

By and by it was just on the tick of twelve! Never had 
Jacob seen such a look as that which was then on the face of 
the master ! 

“ One ! ” struck the clock. “ One ! ” cried the master. 
“ Two,” struck the clock. “ Two ! ” cried the master. 

Then Jacob began to think of his bargain, and that the three 
days were almost over. My, how he did wish that servant 
would n’t count the hours and laugh so fiendishly ! 

“Ten,” struck the clock. “Ten!” cried the master. 
“Eleven,” struck the clock. “Eleven!” cried the master 
with his face grinning more dreadfully than ever. 

And now Jacob could stand it no longer. 

“ Out of my sight ! ” he cried. “ Out of my sight ! I wish 
we may never see you more ! ” 

“Twelve! ” struck the clock — but it didn’t strike before 
Jacob had uttered his wish, and for three days the master was 
to serve Jacob and grant his every wish — that, you remem- 
ber, was the bargain they had made. 

How the master did yell when he heard that wish! And 
now he was a servant no longer, neither was he the fine gentle- 
man that had come that other day into Noodleburg. No, he 
was now a great ugly creature with horns upon his head and 
one foot like the hoof of a horse. Out of the window he 
leaped, and up the street he ran, and such a noise as he made 
was like to wake the whole town. 

62 


The Master Makes a Bargain 

Well, after the wedding, Jacob and Gretchen went to live 
at Jacob’s house, and there they were as happy as might 
be. As for the master, the last they ever saw of him was when 
he leaped out of the window of Herr Mayor’s house, and a 
lucky matter that was for Jacob and Gretchen, and no mistake. 


63 


' The Lad and Luck’s House 

H ERE to-day, and there to-morrow. That is the 
way it is with some folks, for no sooner do they 
rap , tap , tap at the front gate of one town, than 
they must be tucking their toes in the dust on the 
road to the next. 

Yes, that is the way it is with some folks; and some there 
are who must always be crimping and primping and fol-de- 
roling. Off they go, dancing and prancing, at this ball to- 
night and that ball to-morrow night, and then all day long 
they are sleepy and cross. But none of that for me. When 
night comes I like to toast my shins in a cozy corner by the 
fire, with the good wife a-knitting and the yellow yarn danc- 
ing over the amber needles. That ’s the time the fairies 
come. I love to watch them skipping and romping in the 
blaze — blue ones, red ones, green ones, and sometimes, on 
the rarest occasions, there comes a little one of pure gold. 

And in summer — my ! but that is when the fairies have 
the good times! Out in the garden, in the honeysuckles and 
the corn-flowers, the delphiniums and the periwinkles, and 
most especially in the roses, how the fairies do skip and jump 
and play tag! And oh, they tell such wonderful stories 
and sing such wonderful songs ! Sometimes the wrens and 

64 


The Lad and Luck’s House 

thrushes accompany them, and then there is the finest concert 
a body ever heard ! 

It takes sharp eyes to see a fairy; and when you do see 
one, you must never jump or make a loud noise or frown. 
That will scare the fairy away. Most of all, though, fairies 
love children, and I think it is only when old people keep a 
little bit of childhood in their hearts that fairies come to them. 
That is why I am going to try and never grow old; not old 
in my heart, anyway, because, you see, I want the fairies al- 
ways to come to me, especially winter nights before the fire. 
I always have a flower or two standing around on the mantel 
or table to tempt them, because in all the world nothing makes 
a fairy as happy as do flowers. 

Well, one winter afternoon, when all the family were off 
gadding, nothing would do but I must put on my big coat and 
heavy boots and tramp through the snow to Neighbor Fair- 
born’s. I grumbled and fussed as usual, for it is never easy 
to get me started, and in the end, of course, I was sorry; for 
when we came to Neighbor Fairborn’s, there was a fine fire 
burning on the hearth, and some tea brewing, and a big com- 
fortable chair with pillows. There, too, were Billy and Bobbs 
looking at wonderful pictures of ships, and trains of cars, and 
oceans, and bridges. 

So I said “ Oho ! This is just the place for me ! ” for I 
knew what was going to happen. No one else knew what was 
going to happen, and they kept up their jabber, jabber about all 
sorts of uninteresting things. But as for me, I just found a 
comfortable place among the cushions and pillows and kept 
very quiet. Pretty soon a big green flame went twisting up 
the chimney; then there was a big red one, and a blue one, 

65 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stones 

and a purple one, and then one of golden yellow. But the 
yellow one was not a common, every-day flame. No, sir, the 
yellow flame was really a beautiful Fairy, all in a robe of 
golden gossamer and rich jewels. I wondered if Billy and 
Bobbs saw her. But just then some one said, “ Hush! don’t 
make a noise.” That always distracts children, so they missed 
her. I was sorry, too, for the Fairy was looking right at 
them, and with such a serious expression that I knew there 
were important matters on her mind. 

Well, it was n’t long before the Fairy was perched upon 
my shoulder and whispering in my ear; and as I listened, I 
was filled with such wonder that never a word did I hear of 
what was being said in the room, no, not one single word did 
I hear, save only what was whispered by the Fairy. 

This is what the Fairy told me: 

“ The Marsh King has stolen Princess Bluebell and impris- 
oned her on the top of Glass Mountain.” 

“ My! Oh my! ” said I. Not out loud, because it isn’t 
necessary to speak out loud when talking to the fairies. You 
just think “ My! Oh my! ” and the fairy hears it quite as 
distinctly as though it were really spoken. 

“ Yes,” continued the Fairy. “ Princess Bluebell is locked 
in the topmost tower of Glass Mountain, and the Marsh King 
has vowed and declared she shall never be free until she con- 
sents to marry Hook Nose.” 

“ Hook Nose? ” said I. “ Why, that is the Marsh King’s 
oldest son, and the ugliest Ogre in all the four quarters of 
the world! Never could the Marsh King be so cruel as to 
compel the lovely Princess Bluebell to marry the ugly Ogre 
Hook Nose ! ” 


66 


The Lad and Luck’s House 



“ Yes,” said the 
Fairy, “ it is really true. 

A great pity it is, too, 
for now her mother, the 
Queen of the Blue 
Mountains, weeps day 
long and night long in 
her palace, while the 
King of the Blue Moun- 
tains rides at the head 
of twenty thousand 
knights in gold and sil- 
ver armor to make war 
on the King of the 
Marshes.” 

“ Twenty thousand 
knights in gold and sil- 
ver armor!” said I. 

“ Why, that is a marvel- 
ously big army. Surely 
the Marsh King cannot 
array a host to compare 
with that. Already he 
must have been cap- 
tured and the Princess 
Bluebell freed.” 

“ So I thought, too,” 
said the Fairy; “ for there are few kings that could with- 
stand the onslaught of twenty thousand knights in gold and 
silver armor, especially when led by the King of the Blue 

67 


The ugliest Ogre in all the four quarters of 
the world.” 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Mountains. But Will-o’-the-wisp, who has just come from the 
marshes, tells me the Marsh King sits on his throne in the 
heart of the great swamps and only laughs; for, you see, when • 
the heralds blow upon their bugles, and the knights fix their 
lances and ride forth to the charge, why, no sooner do they 
reach the low lands than the great bogs and quagmires swallow 
them up.” 

“ Yes,” I thought, “ that must certainly be true, for the 
marsh lands are dotted with green, shiny bogs and shallow, 
muddy pools where no horse and rider could possibly travel. 
But,” said I, “ were the brave knights really and truly swal- 
lowed up? ” 

“ Yes, at first those in the front ranks were,” said the 
Fairy; “ but Will-o’-the-wisp tells me their companions quickly 
rescued them, so that not a single life was lost. Only, 
of course, their gold and silver armor was all spoiled; at 
least, it had to be sent back to the Blue Mountains to be 
cleaned.” 

The situation was indeed serious, and I knew the Marsh 
King would not leave a stone unturned to win his way against 
the King of the Blue Mountains. This is why: 

Twenty years ago, Hans of Noodleburg found the Hoop 
of Gold and released the King of the Blue Mountains from 
a terrible enchantment. In all that while nothing had ever 
been heard of the wicked Witch who wrought the enchant- 
ment. It did n’t take long for me to put one and one together 
and make two, and two and two together and make four. 
Then the whole story was as clear to me as crystal. Was n’t 
the Marsh King a brother of the Witch? Wasn’t this just 
the sort of trick he would be apt to play in order to have 

68 


The Lad and Luck's House 

revenge? Yes, there was no doubt; the Marsh King had im- 
prisoned Princess Bluebell and would marry her to Hook Nose 
just to have revenge on the King and Queen of the Blue 
Mountains. 

Well, all of this thinking and reasoning and remembering 
was just the same as talking out loud to the Fairy; she listened 
very patiently, and knew every word that passed through 
my mind. No doubt she thought me very dull, and that I was 
losing precious moments. One can never tell what a fairy 
is thinking; and I suspect they often lose patience at our slow 
wit, though, of course, they are too polite to mention it. 

“ What is to be done? ” said I. “ Have you worked out 
any plan? ” 

Well, to make a long story short, the Fairy had worked 
out a plan, and it was neither more nor less than just this: 
Billy and Bobbs must mount a fine white charger and ride 
over hill and dale to Noodleburg, where they are to hunt about 
— here, there, and around the corner — for Luck’s House. 
In Luck’s House are great chests full of wonderful treasures, 
and tucked away on the shelves there is plenty of this, that, and 
the other, such as would surely be worth having by any one 
who would win a princess. 

Yes, that is what it had come to now. The King of the 
Blue Mountains had made a proclamation that he who should 
release the Princess would win her for his bride. 

Mounting a white charger and riding to Noodleburg — 
surely it would take brave lads to do that, to say nothing of 
the bravery of entering Luck’s House. Did the Fairy think 
Billy and Bobbs could do that? 

Yes, the Fairy had no doubt at all. Listen! The Fairy 
69 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

had a fine plan — certainly such a plan as would have been 
thought of only by a fairy. 

This is the plan, and it all really happened: 

That night, when Billy and Bobbs were asleep, the Fairy 
came to them on a moonbeam; with her she had a white horse 
with a long curly mane and tail. Then, over hill and dale, 
off rode Billy and Bobbs to Noodleburg. Over hill and dale 
to Luck’s House, where they knew just what to take and what 
to leave. Then, mounting their horse, over hill and dale, 
back home they came, long, long before the cock crowed and 
the sun came up over Neighbor Shultz’s garage. 

Now, if I were ever astride a fine white charger with my 
feet in the stirrups, riding clipperty-crick over hill and dale 
to Luck’s House, I know what I would choose when I got 
there. But with children I suppose it is different; at least it 
was with Billy and Bobbs. What they chose, or anyway all 
Nurse found in their pockets in the morning, was just one 
round pebble, one black feather from a bird’s wing, one piece 
of string, and one chip of wood, all of which she promptly 
threw out of the window. 

Lucky it was, I can tell you, that a little bird saw where 
Nurse threw these treasures; and lucky, too, that the little 
bird told the Fairy, or else the Princess Bluebell never would 
— but wait! We are getting on too far in the story. 

When the King of the Blue Mountains made his proclama- 
tion that he who released Princess Bluebell would win her for 
his bride, he certainly caused a great stir, and brave knights 
came from every corner of the kingdom. To see them rid- 
ing out of the town gates was a wonderful sight. The gray 
trappings and the glint of sunlight on the polished armor and 

70 


The Lad and Luck's House 

swords and spears made such a brave showing that, had it not 
been for his terrible swamps and bogs and the protection they 
gave him, the Marsh King must have trembled in fear. 

Now it happened that beside the town gates, at a little 
rickety table, there sat an old lady, and to each knight, as he 
passed, she cried, “ Come buy my treasures! ” But when the 
knights looked on the table, they only laughed, for the treas- 
ures were neither more nor less than a round pebble, a black 
feather, a piece of string, and a chip of wood. No one knew 
they came from Luck’s House, and so no one bought. 

When it was nearly evening and the last knight had ridden 
through the gates, there came a poor lad who had neither 
horse nor sword. He thought it would be fine to rescue the 
Princess, because she must be very much afraid away up there 
on the top of Glass Mountain. But as for marrying her, 
that would be quite another matter. Perhaps she liked some- 
body else, and of course she would never think of marrying 
such a poor lad. 

Just then the lad spied the little old lady. 

“ Oho ! ” said he, “ I have only a penny or two, but these 
odds and ends cannot be worth much, and perhaps the old lady 
needs the money.” 

When the little old lady saw the twinkle in the lad’s eyes, 
she knew he would be her customer, and it was n’t long be- 
fore she had the pennies and he had her treasures. Then 
off he went down the road, whistling merrily. Had he turned 
to look back, he might have wondered what had become. of 
the old lady, for she was nowhere in sight. I, for one, think 
she was the Fairy; but I am not certain. 

When it was nearly evening and the poor lad came to 
7i 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

the edge of the marsh lands, he saw all the knights riding 
hither and thither and not knowing which way to turn. As it 
happened at first with the King’s army, so it happened now: 
every rider who dared to venture into the marsh land soon 
found himself floundering in the mire. 

“ Here is a pretty pass! ” thought the lad. “ At this rate 
it will be many a day before the Princess is freed, and old 
Hook Nose will most likely be the bridegroom.” Then, feel- 
ing the round pebble in his pocket, he took it out and shied it 
at the water to see it skip. 

Crash! Bang! 

No sooner did the pebble strike the water than every shiny, 
open pool became solid stone, firm as flint and as easy to ride 
on as the cobbles in our town. No sooner did the knights see 
this firm, hard road-bed than, with a glad shout, away they 
rode to capture the Marsh King. 

No one took even a single glance at the lad, and no one of- 
fered him a ride, so off he trudged on foot. 

In the heart of the marsh lands there was a great lake of 
seething, boiling water, on which no ship could ever sail. In 
the center of the lake there was a tall mountain all of glass, 
which no man could ever climb, and on top of the moun- 
tain was the castle in which was imprisoned Princess Bluebell. 
To this castle the Marsh King had fled with Hook Nose. 
How they ever reached it, I do not know, but there they 
were, safe and sound, when the knights rode up to the edge 
of the lake. 

“ My, this is a fine sight! ” thought the lad, when he at 
last reached the lake. “ But how are the knights ever going 
to get to the Glass Mountain across the boiling lake? And 

72 


The Tad and Luck's House 



if they reach the mountain, how can they ever climb to the 
topmost tower? And if they cannot 
climb to the topmost tower, how can 
they rescue Princess Bluebell? And 
if they do not rescue Princess Blue- 
bell, surely she must marry old Hook 
Nose, which would be sad indeed.” 

All this while the knights were 
riding hither and yon, waving their { 
spears and flashing their swords, and ( 
making the bravest showing ever 
seen west of the sun and \ 

east of the moon. 

As for Princess Bluebell, 
she had cried herself to 
sleep. No won- 
der was that, 
either, for she 
could hear the 
Marsh King and 
Hook Nose 
tramping about 
downstairs and 
making such a 
noise as was 

quite enough to 
frighten any 
one. 

Though the 

lad was as “The beautiful ship with silken sails.” 


73 


Will Bradley's W onderbox Stories 

brave as the bravest, it would have been a wish wasted for 
him to want a horse and armor, but to wish for fine clothes and 
buckled shoes — that was only natural, so torn and tattered 
were his own. “ Well, at least I have a plume for my cap! ” 
said he, and into it he tucked the black feather he had bought 
for a penny from the old lady at the gate back yonder. Then 
he put the cap on his head and — 

Whisk! Boom! 

Away through the air flew the lad. Over the knights and 
horses, over the boiling lake, over the Glass Mountain and 
into the window of the topmost tower he flew, right into the 
presence of Princess Bluebell, who opened her eyes and looked 
upon him in fear and wonder. 

Up went the lad’s hands to doff his cap, for he would have 
bowed politely. But his hand found only his hair, for his 
cap had been brushed from his head as he passed through the 
window. 

Of course, all the knights thought it a strange sight to see 
the lad flying through the air. As for the Marsh King and 
Hook Nose, they were so frightened they knew not which 
way to turn; and when they saw the cap and feather come 
tumbling down, they tried to run, stubbed their toes, and went 
tumbling topsy-turvy into the boiling lake ! 

The wild shriek they gave as they reached the water made 
Princess Bluebell run quickly to the window. When she saw 
what had happened to the Marsh King and Hook Nose, and 
saw all the great array of knights on the opposite shore, 
she thought: “ At last I have been rescued, and this raggedy, 
tattered lad must be a servant of the great prince, or king, or 

74 


The Lad and Luck's House 



knight who has 
freed me. Now we 
will go home and 
have a fine wed- 
ding.” 

And then she or- 
dered the lad to do 
this, that, and the 
other, and she 
smoothed her dress, 
and brushed her 
hair, and made 
ready to greet the 
fine knight whom, 
every second, she ex- 
pected to see coming 
through the door. 

Meanwhile, as 
the lad looked about 
and saw the high, 
smooth walls of the 
tower and the steep 
glass sides of the 
mountain and could 
find no way to the 
bottom, he thought, 

“ This is a fine fix “Musicians played in the palace gardens.” 

we are in! ” A fine fix it would have been, too, if it had not 
been for the piece of string that came from Luck’s House and 


75 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stones 

was bought for a penny back yonder. Yes, the string helped 
them now; for no sooner did the lad lower it from a window 
than : 

Flipperty flap! 

The finest and safest rope-ladder ever seen was hanging 
from the topmost tower to the very bottom of the moun- 
tain ! 

This way and that way swung the ladder as, step by step, 
down went Princess Bluebell and the lad. All the while the 
Princess wondered what had become of the knight, for she 
thought, “ Surely this raggedy, tattered lad cannot be my res- 
cuer ! ” 

At last they reached the bottom of the ladder and the edge 
of the boiling lake. Now there was left only the small chip 
of wood — the chip brought by Billy and Bobbs from Luck’s 
House. 

Out of his pocket the lad took the chip, and into the lake he 
threw it. Then — 

Whistle and whoop! 

Riding gracefully on the waves was — not a chip. No! 
The chip had become a beautiful ship with silken sails, and 
painted sides, and polished deck — such a ship as one might 
travel in all around the world and back again and never see 
its equal. 

Well, as they sailed toward the other shore, the Princess 
wondered why the raggedy, tattered lad was her only com- 
panion, and, although she thought him a fine enough look- 
ing lad, she said: “Of course, he can’t be the one who 
has freed me. My real rescuer must be one of the fine knights 
on the bank yonder.” 


76 



The Princess Bluebell Tries on Her New Gowns. 

77 




Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Thus it was that, when the ship reached the shore, Princess 
Bluebell rode away with all the King’s knights. Once she 
looked at the lad to say “ Thank you,” but he was coiling a 
rope and did not see her. So off she rode, and off rode the 
knights, and the lad was left behind, and — 

In his pocket nothing was left from Luck’s House ! 

The King and Queen were glad enough to have the Princess, 
I can tell you, and such a celebration as they made I would 
walk many a mile to see. Musicians played in the palace 
gardens. Clowns and mountebanks did tricks in the royal 
theater. Ladies wore their finest gowns, and every one had 
the best time ever known in the Blue Mountains. 

Meanwhile, grand preparation was being made for the 
wedding. Artists redecorated the palace. The most famous 
dressmakers and milliners prepared the trousseau. The 
greatest chef designed and baked a wonderful wedding-cake, 
and no money was spared to make the event the grandest ever 
seen in all the world. 

“ But who is to be the bridegroom? ” That was the ques- 
tion the townsfolk were asking. Every knight who had rid- 
den into the marsh lands hoped to be the favored one, and 
each day so many claimed the honor that all the wise men in 
the kingdom could not decide which it should be. 

As for Princess Bluebell, she was not at all worried. The 
King had said that he who freed her from the tower should 
win her for his bride, so of course there would be a wedding. 
But as the days came and went and no one proved his claim, 
the King finally announced a great tournament, and vowed and 
declared that the victor should be proclaimed the choice of 
the Princess. 


78 



Will Bradley’s Wonderbox Stories 

When the King’s heralds, astride their beautiful chargers 
and blowing great blasts upon their golden trumpets, rode to 
the four corners of the kingdom and cried the news of the 
tournament, the knights all gave a great cheer, for each one 
thought he surely would be the victor. 

At last the great day arrived, and so many were the 
knights that rode to the tournament that ten men could not 
count them, nor twenty men their banners and the squires that 
attended them. 

All day long the knights rode thundering forth and back 
across the plain with shield on arm and lance at rest, and al- 
ways riders hurtled together with a splitting of shields and a 
splintering of lances, until so many had been tumbled from off 
their horses that only one remained. 

I wish I could have been at that tournament. Some folks 
tell me it was the most wondrous ever seen in all the world — 
even surpassing any ever held by King Arthur. I wish, too, 
I could have seen the Green Knight when he rode thunder- 
ing onto the field and challenged the victor. Where he came 
from, nobody seemed to know. My, how he could ride ! 
Why, the victor, the knight who had tossed all the other 
knights into the dust, was tumbled out of his saddle so quickly 
one had n’t time to even say “ Scat” 

Of course, there could be no doubt about it now. The 
Green Knight was declared the winner of the tournament, and 
off he rode with Princess Bluebell to the castle. All the bells 
in the city were ringing, and the wedding was to be held at six 
o’clock. 

Some said the Green Knight was a great prince, and some 
said he was a powerful king. As for Princess Bluebell, she 

80 


The Lad and Luck's House 

said nothing at all. But if you had been with her in the top- 
most tower of the Glass Mountain, and especially, if you had 
been carried down the rope-ladder and had sailed in the painted 
ship on the boiling lake, I think you would have taken a peek 
out of the corner of your eye, just as the Princess did. Then 
you would have said just as the Princess said: 

“ Why, the Green Knight is neither more nor less than — ” 

Who do you think? 

“ THE POOR LAD ! ” 

Yes, sure enough! The Green Knight was really the lad 
who had rescued the Princess. Now a raggedy, tattered lad 
no longer, but a rich and powerful king. All the treasures 
that had once belonged to the Marsh King and Hook Nose 
now belonged to the lad. For he was the really true and right- 
ful king of that country. 

Of course the Green Knight and Princess Bluebell were 
married and will live happily ever after. When they read this 
history, and learn of the visit to Luck’s House, they will be 
glad Billy and Bobbs made such a wise choice. As for nurses 
who look through boys’ pockets, and throw away stones, and 
strings, and other treasures, and say, “Bah! Silly truck!” 
— why, they had just better be careful, because I am not sure 
Hook Nose was drowned, and if he ever catches them and 
locks them in the topmost tower of Glass Mountain, they will 
be sorry they were so stupid. 


81 


The Five Golden Candlesticks 


O NCE upon a time there lived a man of some three- 
score and ten years who was such a student that 
folks said no problem might be made in either alge- 
bra or geometry, however difficult it might be, that 
he could not easily give its solution. Indeed, so great was his 
learning and so broad his wisdom, that some there were who 
even whispered he had occult powers, and some who declared 
he delved in Black Arts. 

Now of these latter matters I have no definite knowledge, 
and so cannot say whether they were true or false. But 
though I like little to listen to gossips, there fell a word here 
and a word there which came in at one ear and did not run out 
at the other, so that in the end, willy-nilly, I must needs think 
of the Old Man that of strange lore he knew somewhat more 
than a little. 

On a day in spring, when all the world was glad with birds 
singing in the leafy branches, and yellow daffodils laughing 
in the green fields, the man called to him his two sons, and 
said: “ Now has the time come when it were well for you to 
go out into the world, where more may be seen than is to 
be found within the four walls of this house or the four corners 
of the town. There is little that I can give you of gold to 
aid you on your journey, for so it is with a student that often 

82 


The Five Golden Candlesticks 

he is ill paid. Yet, by good hap, you need not go wholly pen- 
niless. See ! here are Five Golden Candlesticks — little, and 
easy to carry. Keep them ever by you, and ’t is like they will 
aid you in time of need. Here also are a few silver pennies. 
Spend them wisely.” 

No sooner did their father cease speaking than the elder 
son stepped briskly forward and held out his hands to receive 
the candlesticks and the silver pennies, for he loved pleasure 
and he was thinking how much of it these would buy out in the 
big world. 

As for the younger son, he was not in such a big hurry; 
and if one had looked into the corners of his two eyes, there 
might have been seen a pearly tear in each, for he thought: 
“ My father is now an old man, and mayhap, when I return 
from my travels, he too may have gone on a journey, and, be- 
like, this day I am saying a last good-by.” 

Then he thought of the Five Golden Candlesticks, and how 
they had always stood on the mantel in the parlor, and how 
in his father’s study were five little ones of pewter, and he 
said : 

“ Father, thou hast given us the Five Golden Candlesticks, 
and my half will I gladly give to my brother. Also, thou 
hast given us a handful of silver pennies, and my half of 
these will I give to my brother. Yet will I ask of thee a gift 
that I may have as my very own — no less a one, in fact, 
than the Five Pewter Candlesticks that, from a child knee- 
high, I have seen each night alight in thy study.” 

Now, while the young lad was speaking, his brother could 
hardly keep from laughing. “ Silly ! Silly ! Silly ! ” he kept 
saying, “ to give up gold and silver and take only pewter! ” 

83 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

But he did n’t say this out loud, for he was glad to have his 
brother’s share and the good times it would buy him. 

As for the father, he did n’t say no to the proposition, and 
there was such a merry twinkle in his eyes that, had I been 
the elder brother, I would have thought twice before entering 
into such a bargain. 

Well, when the sun was in the west, with its slant rays 
throwing cool shadows along the highway, off stepped the 
two lads. In the knapsack of the elder were the Five Golden 
Candlesticks, and in his pocket a merry jingle of silver pen- 
nies. In the knapsack of the younger were the Five Pewter 
Candlesticks, and in his pocket only a cold pasty. But at his 
side there was slung a lute; and as he listened to the eve- 
ning carols of the birds and the little breezes astir in the leaf- 
age, he composed sweet notes and thought that on the mor- 
row, were his heart less heavy over parting with his father, he 
would play them upon his lute and sing such words as might 
come to him. 

Night drew on ere they reached the first town, and the 
moon rose silver above the tree-tops. Nothing would do 
now but the eldest son must hunt out the finest inn and buy 
the best of everything. As for the younger lad, why, he still 
had a bit of cold pasty in his pocket, and what could there be 
finer than a mossy bed beneath an oak? 

On the morrow the young lad was up with the sun, and 
when he had bathed in the river and had eaten the last of 
his pasty and washed it down with a good drink of cold spring 
water, he set his back to the trunk of the big oak, and, tun- 
ing his iute, sang such a song as befitted his mood and the joy 

84 


The Five Golden Candlesticks 

of a May morning. For so it is with a lad, that sorrow runs 
off him lightly and with the new day comes a new hope. 

Meanwhile, at the inn the elder son slept soundly, and in 
his pocket there were not two silver pennies to jingle one 
against the other, neither was there even one penny. 

Here we will leave the two lads for a while and tell of 
the Young Queen who ruled in that realm. So beautiful she 
was and good that all had been joy and happiness throughout 
the land if only she would consent to choose a husband, and 
thus save the bitter strife and enmity of the princes who sought 
her hand and who were forever holding tournaments and fight- 
ing battles to show their bravery and win the approval of the 
Queen. 

The Lord High Chancellor and all the dignitaries of the 
court held councils until far into the night. The wise men 
searched their great books, and the astronomers studied the 
stars. But no remedy could be found. 

Thus it was that on the morning in May when the young 
lad sang beneath the oak-tree the Young Queen, weary of 
the pleading and importuning of her elders, having retired 
to her country cottage some miles from the palace, heard such 
sweet singing as she had never heard in all the days of her 
life. So she arose and opened wide the casement. Nor be- 
ing content with that, she straightway dressed, and, hurrying 
to the garden, went to the outermost bounds and looked over 
the hedge, where she saw the young lad and heard the words 
of his song and the sweet notes of the lute. 

Only one look did she take, when her heart gave such a 
bound that off she sped light of foot through the grass to 

85 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

the gardener’s cottage. “ See, Gardener,” she said, “ so and 
so and so.” 

Well, the end of the matter was just this: hardly had the 
lad finished his song when the old gardener was inviting him 
into the garden, where whom should he see but the Young 
Queen. Sharper eyes it would take than yours or mine or the 
lad’s to know her for the Queen, for she wore no royal robes, 
but was dressed in a smock and big hat, for all the world like 
the gardener’s daughter. This, in very truth, was what the 
lad deemed her, and he thought that nowhere in all the world 
might be found a maid more beautiful. 

After that, as you will quickly guess, it was n’t long before 
the lad was bowing, and saying “ How do you do? ” to the 
Young Queen. Then, how would the lad like to come and 
work in the garden? See ! there was much planting and prun- 
ing to be done, and the gardener sorely needed an assistant. 

Of course the lad did n’t say “ No ” to that proposition; and 
so he became assistant gardener, and each day worked among 
the flowers with the Young Queen. In the evening he would 
play upon his lute, and sing sweet songs of birds and brooks 
and the whispering wind in the branches, of shepherds and 
shepherdesses and the tending of gentle flocks. All the while, 
as he played and sang, the Young Queen listened, and with 
every song her heart grew, fonder and fonder of the lad, and 
she sighed and wished she were in very truth the gardener’s 
daughter, so that she might remain forever in the garden 
and never have to attend to weighty affairs of state. Also, 
being a Queen, she could not wed her assistant gardener, 
which in all the world was the thing she most desired. As 
for the lad, never before, in all the days of his life, had he 

86 



“ She looked over the hedge, where she saw the young lad and heard the sweet 

notes of his lute.” 

87 




Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

known such sweet contentment, and he thought: “Never 
was born a maid so dear and kind. Mayhap, in time, she will 
care as much for me as I do now for her.” So glad of heart 
he was, and so joyous, that sad indeed to him were those days 
on which the Queen must needs go to the palace. Sad, also, 
were those days for the Queen; and all through the long after- 
noons, as the lad watched the highway for her return, she too 
was all impatience. 

Where the Queen went at such times the lad did not know, 
but as she always carried an armful of beautiful flowers, he 
thought, “ Mayhap it is to some one who is ill, or to her old 
nurse, or to some friend.” Had the lad walked to the brow 
of the first hill, he would have seen how, in the hollow be- 
yond, there awaited the Queen a coach and two pairs of pranc- 
ing horses, with coachmen, footmen, and outriders. 

Meanwhile, the elder brother was living merrily at the inn, 
going to masquerades and balls at night and entertaining roy- 
ally. One by one he sold the Golden Candlesticks, until none 
remained. Then, when the last penny was spent and the land- 
lord was for turning him out into the street, he thought, “ Now 
I will find my brother, and perhaps I can borrow something 
from him.” 

So it was that, on a day when the Queen was at the palace 
and the young lad was at work among the roses, who should 
come stepping up the path but the elder brother. When the 
elder brother went down the path again and the gate clicked 
behind his back, the silver pennies that jingled in his pocket 
were all the young lad’s savings. 

On this same day there were stormy councils held at the 
palace. The elders and venerables one and all insisted and 

88 


The Five Golden Candlesticks 

demanded that the Young Queen should choose a husband. 
What the Prime Minister could have done under such trying 
circumstances, it would be hard to guess. But just then there 
came to the palace an old man with somewhat more of wis- 
dom than his fellows. Straightway this old man went to the 
Queen, and, though I know naught of what he said, this I do 
know, that no sooner had he departed than there was made 
a proclamation bearing the Queen’s royal seal. 

This was the proclamation: “To him who proves his 
bravery by bringing the Black Diamond from the Cave of 
Darkness in the Valley of the Four Winds, the Queen will 
extend her royal favor and give him favorable consideration 
in the suit for her hand.” 

Heralds now rode forth with such speed that ere night not 
a hamlet or village throughout the realm was without the 
news. 

In the evening, when the Queen returned to the cottage, the 
lad was waiting for her in the rose-garden. There she told 
him of the proclamation. 

“ The Black Diamond from the Cave of Darkness in the 
Valley of the Four Winds! That certainly is a perilous un- 
dertaking,” said the lad. “ Yet it might be accomplished if 
one but had the sight of an owl. Belike too, when the Queen 
has the Diamond, she will want the Rose with the Heart of 
Pearl from the Garden of the Five Gates, and the Bird with 
Wings of Gold from the Fairy Forest, and the Pomegranate 
with Heart of Honey from the Ogres’ Orchard. After that, 
before she bestows her heart and hand, she will demand — ” 

“ But,” interrupted the Queen, # her eyes big with wonder, 
“ how did you know all this? ” 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

“ Oh, I am but guessing,” answered the lad, as he picked 
a few notes upon the strings of his lute. “ My father is a 
great student, and from him I learned a little of this, that and 
the other, so ’t is but the same as putting together two and 
two to make four.” Then he struck a chord upon his lute, 
and sang of the moon and roses and love in such wise that the 
Queen cast down her eyes, not daring to look upon him, for 
she knew the words were made for her. 

When the song was finished, the Queen held out her hand 
to the lad, and though he kept it overlong to say good night, 
she did not withdraw it, but looked upon him full kindly, and 
thought: “Thou art a dear lad and a good gardener, and 
dost play and sing full sweetly; and day long hast thou been 
such a companion as never might a maid wish better. Yet do 
you deem of me that I am but the gardener’s daughter, and 
now I am sore grieved to have deceived you, for I am a great 
and mighty Queen and may not wed a gardener. And more 
the pity is that, too, for unto a gardener have I given my heart, 
and with him above all others would I share my throne.” 
All of this the Queen thought ere she withdrew her hand from 
the lad’s, but she only said : 

“ Good night, dear lad, for to-morrow I must depart early.” 

Said the lad: “ Now has sorrow blighted the garden, and 
the sunlight is hidden behind a cloud; no more will bud burst 
into bloom, or bird sing to its mate until you come again.” 

“ Oh, dear lad,” thought the Queen, “ if only you could go 
to the Cave of Darkness in the Valley of the Four Winds and 
get for me the Black Diamond! ” Yet of this thought she 
said nothing to the lad, but only sighed, and, again bidding 
him good night, went into the cottage. 

90 


The Five Golden Candlesticks 

When the lad was alone, he took his lute and went to the 
far end of the garden, as was ever his custom. And 
he thought that this night, above all others, he would 
compose such a song as might tell of all the hope within his 
heart. 

Yet did the lad not sing the song on that night, nor the 
next, nor the night after, for it happened that, as he came 
to the end of the path near a hedge of clipped yew, he heard 
voices on the overside. Now, though at first he did not in- 
tend to listen, some of the words so held his attention that in 
the end he heard them all. No wonder was that either, for 
the talk ran all about the Queen’s proclamation, and in it 
there was said that, if one only had the Pewter Candlestick 
that had once belonged to King Solomon the Wise, it would 
be no hard task to win the Black Diamond. 

No sooner did the lad hear these words than off he sped 
to his room, for on the Pewter Candlesticks that had been 
given him by his father, and which now stood upon his man- 
tel, there were engraved the hieroglyphics which he knew full 
well to be the seal of Solomon the Wise. Also, on each 
there was a strange device, the meaning of which until now he 
had never known. On that particular Candlestick which he 
quickly chose, and in which he lit a candle, there was carven 
a round cat’s-eye. 

“ By the mighty wisdom and power of Solomon I bid thee 
give me sight beyond that of mortal man.” These were the 
words that had been spoken on the other side of the yew 
hedge; and hardly had the lad finished repeating them, than 
the flame glowed and glimmered with such a light as is sel- 
dom seen in the world. Then it died down, flickered, and 

9i 


Will Bradley's W onderbox Stones 

went out; and though the room was left in total darkness, to 
the sight of the lad all was as clear as bright sunlight. 

To tell all that happened on the trip that night to the Val- 
ley of the Four Winds and the Cave of Darkness would take 
far too long. On the road the lad passed knights and princes 
who were lost in the murky forests or stuck in the mires and 
bogs. When at last he reached the heart of the Valley and 
the entrance to the Cave of Darkness, there was no sign of 
life save only the doleful hooting of the great owls in the 
topmost branches of the trees and the slimy rustle of the rep- 
tiles that, without sight, moved from rock to pool and pool to 
rock in the dark, oozy depths of the Cave. All of this the 
lad could see as plain as could be. Also, he had no trouble 
in finding the Black Diamond; the Pewter Candlestick had 
given him such sight as made murky darkness as bright as 
day. 

Of the return journey there is only this to tell, that, of those 
he had passed in the night, all now were discouraged and 
turning back. No one saw him come out of the Valley of the 
Four Winds, and of course no one knew he had the Black 
Diamond. What he would do with it he had n’t thought, but 
this he did know: he would not go to the palace and present 
it to the Queen, for, even though she were as fair as folk 
said of her, yet was there one that to him was more fair, and 
belike he would give the Diamond to her. 

When at last he reached the hollow near the cottage, there 
stood the royal coach, and some one was just stepping in at 
the door. Then the whips cracked, and away dashed the 
horses and outriders. As the coach passed him, the cur- 
tains were drawn, so he did not see the occupant; but when 

92 


The Five Golden Candlesticks 

he came to the cottage, the sun was an hour high and the maid 
had already departed. 

That day, as the lad was pruning the roses, who should 
come through the gate again but the elder brother. He had 
spent all his money, and that was a pity too; for if he only 
had a little, he would go to the Valley of the Four Winds and 
get the Black Diamond. After that, he would marry the 
Queen, sit on the throne, and be a King. 

Well, if that was all the elder brother needed to make him 
a King, why here was the Black Diamond and welcome. 

Yes, that is what the young lad said. Of course, he did n’t 
know that the maid he thought to be the gardener’s daugh- 
ter was really the Queen, and I, for one, am sorry she did not 
tell him on the night before, in place of just thinking about it 
and keeping her thoughts to herself. However, the milk was 
spilled now, so of what avail to bemoan it? Already the elder 
brother was only a speck far down the road. 

When it was known that the elder brother had the Black 
Diamond, the innkeeper scraped and bowed and paid him 
such honor as though he were already the King. Tailors 
dressed him sumptuously, servants were provided. A beauti- 
ful coach drove up, and off went the elder brother with the 
Black Diamond to the Queen. 

That night, when the Queen returned to the cottage, she 
seemed somewhat sad. But she told the lad all the news, 
and how the town was all abuzz, and saying there would soon 
be a wedding up at the palace. 

“ But,” said she, “ the Queen has now asked for the Rose 
with the Heart of Pearl from the Garden of the Five Gates.” 

“ Yes,” said the lad, “ and that will be a harder task than 
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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

the other; for how is one to find a single rose among a 
million? ” 

“ I do not know,” said the Queen, “ but a good rose-grower 
might find a way.” Then she said good night and went into 
the cottage. 

That night, after the lad had played a tune or two upon 
his lute, he went to his room, and no sooner did he look at 
the Candlesticks than he doubled up with laughter, for the 
device engraved upon the second seemed double the usual size 
and without doubt it was that of a nose. 

I won’t take time to tell you all about how the lad lit a 
candle in the second Candlestick, and how immediately he had 
power to know every fragrant scent of every flower that ever 
grew and every individual scent of every species. Neither 
will I tell you all about his trip to the Garden of the Five 
Gates, and the finding of the Rose with the Heart of Pearl. 
Also, we will not take time to tell about his return the next 
morning one hour after sunrise, and about passing the coach 
in the hollow, and about the maid having departed. Of 
course, too, you must know that where the elder brother found 
luck on one day he would look for it again on the next. Well, 
all of this is exactly what happened. 

Yes, the Queen now had the Rose with the Heart of Pearl 
that had been brought to her by the elder brother. All of 
this she told to the lad that night upon her return to the cot- 
tage. Also, she said that now the Queen had asked for the 
Bird with Wings of Gold. 

“ That will be a difficult accomplishment,” said the lad. 

“ It should be easy for one who knows the bird’s song,” 
said the Queen. 


94 


The Five Golden Candlesticks 

That night it happened as on the night before, only this 
time it was the third Candlestick that the lad lit, upon which 
was engraved an ear. Then there was no song of bird, no 
matter how faint, that the lad could not hear. 

Well, everything happened now as it had before; the lad 
found the Bird with Wings of Gold, which the elder brother 
gave to the Queen. She now asked for the Pomegranate with 
Heart of Honey. 

All of this the Queen told to the lad that night. 

“ A Pomegranate with Heart of Honey may not be found 
by every one,” said the lad. 

“ It might be found by a gardener,” said the Queen, and 
there were tears in her voice. 

This time it was the Candlestick on which was graven a 
tongue that gave the lad the power to taste all the wonderful 
flavors of the world. Of course, with this wonderful power, 
he found the Pomegranate with Heart of Honey. Of course, 
too, it was the elder brother who took the Pomegranate to the 
Queen. 

That night, when the Queen returned to the cottage, she 
was almost too sad to talk, for on the morrow she would 
stand in line with five hundred other maidens. All would be 
of the same height, all dressed alike, and all blindfolded. 
Each maiden would hold out one hand, and the suitors passing 
down the line would touch each hand. Thus must be de- 
termined which was the Queen. 

But this was not all the sauce to that pudding. No in- 
deed! The elders and venerables were tired of Black Dia- 
monds, and Pomegranates, and all such fol-de-rol. Now the 
Queen must be wedded for sure and certain, so not only would 

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there be the elder brother, but also twenty princes of the realm 
to make the choice. 

“ Well,” said the lad, laughing, “ if the other adventures 
were difficult, this one at least is not; for what lover could not 
easily thus find his own maid? Surely, not one but twenty 
will there be to claim the Queen.” 

Now was the Queen no longer sad. 

On the morrow the lad was astir early, and so it happened 
that, as he walked abroad and came to the hilltop, he saw the 
royal coach in the hollow and the maid stepping slowly through 
the door, after which she turned around and waved her hand. 
Then away galloped the horses. 

Long the lad sat upon the hillside pondering the strange 
happening he had seen. Then he thought, mayhap the gar- 
dener’s daughter is to stand in line with the Queen, and 
tumbling after that thought came another: “ Mayhap she 
will be chosen by some prince, for even the Queen can not 
have a hand so fair as hers.” 

With this thought tingling in his brain the lad took his lute 
and set forth for the palace. 

Meanwhile the Queen sat alone in the window of the music- 
room of the palace, gazing intently at her crystal globe, and 
there she saw the lad stepping along the highway and at last 
reaching the very gates of the palace. The masked musician 
in the outer hall watched her every move to find some hint or 
trick by which he might know her, for he was really the elder 
brother. Thus it happened that he did not notice the entrance 
of the lad, who was soon lost amid the throng. Meanwhile, 
preparations were made for the choosing, and away went the 

96 



“ The Queen gazed intently at her crystal globe.” 

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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stones 

Queen to join the others. But on the way she whispered a 
word to the Prime Minister. 

When the line was formed, out stepped the twenty princes 
and the elder brother. Out stepped also the lad, for that is 
the word the Queen had whispered to the Prime Minister. 
At home on his mantel was the fifth Pewter Candlestick, which 
would have given him the power of touch. But this, lover- 
like, he would have scorned. 

Of course, he walked straight to the Queen and took her 
hand before the others had even time to guess which way to 
turn. And of course, when they unmasked, he thought she 
was only the gardener’s daughter. 

Well, after that they were wed, and spent their honeymoon 
at the little cottage, and lived and reigned happily ever after. 

The elder brother and the princes each chose beautiful 
maidens, and they too were wed. 

As for the Five Golden Candlesticks, I do not know what 
became of them, and, now that the tale is finished, if the title 
of a story came at the end in place of at the beginning, I 
would call it: 

The Five Pewter Candlesticks. 

Would n’t you? 


98 


Hans the Wise 


O NCE upon a time there lived a Little Soldier who 
went to the wars and fought so bravely that it is 
a wonder he was not made a General. 

When the wars were over, tramp, tramp, tramp, 
shoulder arms, off he marched home again, through the town 
gates, through the town streets, and into the very presence 
of the King. 

“ Good day to you,” said the King; “you have been a fine 
Soldier, for sure and certain. My Royal Treasurer will now 
pay you your wages, and you are free to go whithersoever 
you will — throughout this town* or the next, or the one over 
yonder.” 

Then the King led the way, and the Treasurer followed, and 
after him came the Soldier; and they all entered the royal 
treasury, where were great carven and painted chests of gold 
and silver and precious jewels. So many chests there were 
in that room, it would have taken three whole days to count 
one half of them, and a clever mathematician would be needed 
to accomplish even that. 

“ Help yourself freely,” said the King. “ Fill your pockets 
with gold and silver and jewels; and when you have filled your 
pockets, fill your hat.” 

Yes, the King said those exact words; for you see the Little 
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Will Bradley s W onderbox Stories 



Soldier was of exceeding great bravery and had fought 
through the whole war, so the King, who was n’t at all stingy, 
wanted to reward him generously. 

“Humph!” said the Little Soldier. “Gold and silver 

and precious jewels 
are all very well for 
Kings and Queens, 
and folk who sit at 
home in silks and 
satins and do noth- 
ing but twiddle their 
thumbs; but of what 
good would they be 
to a Soldier who is 
about to start out 
and see the world? 
Would n’t a body 
soon feel tired walk- 
ing along the high- 
way with his pock- 
ets full of heavy 
gold?” As for fill- 
ing his hat, the Lit- 
tle Soldier would 

_ never think of do- 

The Little Soldier. . . r , 

ing that, tor how 

could he wear his hat if it were full of gold, and was n’t his 
hat made to be worn? And if he didn’t wear it, wouldn’t 
the hot sun beat down upon his bare head most uncomfortably? 
No, the Little Soldier did n’t care for gold and silver and 



Hans the Wise 

precious jewels; so he thanked the King kindly, and said, if 
it was all the same to him, he would just take the nice round 
white pebble that was lying in the corner over yonder, and 
that would be wages enough and to spare. 

Of course, the King was quite willing to give the Little 
Soldier the round white pebble, for, as oft happens with 
Kings and Queens, and sometimes with other folk, he was glad 
to have an excuse to keep his gold and silver and precious 
stones, though what good they did him, stored away in the 
carved and painted chests in his strong room, is more than I 
can guess. 

Well, after that it was n’t long before eyes front, one foot 
before the other, down the streets of the town, out through 
the gate of the town and along the highway marched the Little 
Soldier, whistling a jolly tune and as merry a body as one 
might ever care to meet. 

Not a penny did the Little Soldier have in his pocket, nor 
any other burden to carry upon his journey save only the 
round white pebble, which, no sooner did he reach the bridge 
that crossed a quiet pool than, whisk! away he threw the peb- 
ble, and watched it skip and dance across the water, making 
such ripples and circles on the still surface as were a joy to 
see. After that, the Little Soldier had not a single care or 
burden, and twice merry was the tune he then whistled. 

As you will readily guess, the news of all this passed quickly 
from tongue to ear, so that ere the sun set not a soul in all 
that town, and but few in the town beyond, had not heard 
the news. 

Such wisdom had seldom been known at that time, and 
whereas the Little Soldier’s name was Hans, and his com- 

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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

rades called him Happy Hans, now folk named him Wise 
Hans, or more often Hans the Wise. 

Now it happened that in those days in Noodleburg there 
lived a man named Peter, who had so much of this world’s 
goods he was called Rich Peter. 


The Innkeeper Gives Hans a Message. 

Rich Peter had one son who was called Young Peter. 

Also there was in Noodleburg at that time one Herr 
Kleimer, who had a daughter named Katrinka. 

When he was but a lad, Young Peter had looked over the 
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Hans the Wise 

hedge and seen Katrinka. After that he looked again and 
yet again. Then he went through the hedge and came to 
Katrinka and said, “How do you do?” And Katrinka 
looked up from her roses, not a bit surprised, and said, “ How 
do you do?” Of course, they were soon good friends, and 
in a while it was whispered they were to be married. 

Herr Kleimer did n’t say no to that proposition, for Young 
Peter was as fine a lad as any in all Noodleburg. But — of 
Rich Peter it must be told he made such a wry face as I never 
want to see again, for he was stingy and thought, “ Now 
will the lad be asking for a few silver pennies to set up house- 
keeping.” 

Thus matters stood when the Little Soldier reached Noodle- 
burg. And of how he used his great wisdom to solve a diffi- 
cult problem, thereby calling down upon himself the wrath 
of Rich Peter, and of how this helped Katrinka and Young 
Peter, you shall now hear, for it happened in this wise: 

“ Sir,” said Jacob, innkeeper of the Black Cock, to Hans 
one day as the Little Soldier sat sunning himself on a settle 
beside the inn door, “ Herr Kleimer has heard of your doings 
over the hills yonder, how you fought in the great wars, and 
of your clever wisdom, and yesterday he said to me, ‘ Jacob, 
if Hans the Wise comes stepping along this way, tell him I 
have a word or two for his ear.’ ” 

“ Good day, your Honor,” said Hans, a few minutes later 
when Herr Kleimer answered his rap-tap-tap at the front door- 
“ Friend Jacob, over the way — ” 

“Oh, yes!” said Herr Kleimer, interrupting; “you are 
Hans the Wise! Come right in; I have something to show 
you.” 


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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

Through the house Herr Kleimer led Hans, into a big oak- 
paneled room where were windows overlooking the gar- 
den. 

“ Take a peek into the garden and tell me what you see,” 
said Herr Kleimer. 

“ Oh,” said Hans, “ there are rows of hollycocks, beds of 
tulips, a few fruit-trees, a pebbled walk or two, and a bit of 
greensward — a fine garden, for sure and certain! Yet no 
fairer than many a one we have back yonder.” 

That is the way it was with Hans, who was always so proud 
of his own town he never could find its equal elsewhere. 

“Look again,” continued Herr Kleimer; “that is not all 
there is to be seen.” 

“Prut!” said Hans, laughing; “ if you mean the lad and 
the maid in the arbor yonder, why, you may spy upon them 
yourself if you will; but as for me, I have other fish to fry, 
so I must be taking my cap and jogging along.” 

“ Wait a while,” said Herr Kleimer, not the least particle 
put out at the words of Hans. “ You are for bringing your 
bread from the oven half baked. Listen : here is Young Peter 
coming to see my Katrinka one day a week for nigh a year, 
and only to-morrow they were to be married. Then what 
happens but a message must be sent me from Old Peter to 
say Young Peter is going to enter the army and so the wed- 
ding is off for a year, mayhaps two years, or even three. A 
fine state of affairs this is, and the cake all frosted and the 
guests invited ! ” 

Hans rubbed his nose reflectively. “My, oh, my!” said 
he; “that certainly is sad. I wish the matter might be 
mended.” Then he looked again at the lass, and could not 

104 


Hans the Wise 

but see the tears in her eyes, and she so pretty it was all a 
shame. 

“ Ah ! ” said Herr Kleimer, “ now you have found the plum 
in the pudding, and have but to pull it out. See. Rich Peter 



Herr Kleimer Tells Hans His Trouble. 


lives in that fine house in the hills just outside the town; and 
last night robbers came and stole away all his treasure. That 
is why he sends Young Peter to the army; he says the lad is 
now too poor to marry. Could we but capture the robbers 

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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

and get back the treasure, all would be well. You are a clever 
one, Hans; will you help? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said Hans, hurriedly. “ Which way did the 
robbers run? ” 

Herr Kleimer looked troubled. “ That I cannot tell,” said 
he; “the soldiers have searched high and low, and no sign 
of the robbers can they find anywhere.” 

“Humph! ” said Hans. “Now that is too bad. We 
cannot, of course, capture the robbers and get the treasure 
until we first find them.” 

Herr Kleimer opened wide his eyes and looked at Hans in 
wonder. “I never thought about that!” said he. “You 
certainly are a clever one, Hans ! ’T is no marvel you are 
called Hans the Wise. Well, now, I suppose we shall have 
to give up ! ” 

“ Oh, no,” said Hans, “we won’t give up yet; for, as my 
Colonel used to say, ‘ it is never too late to try ’; so I will 
just be stepping along to Rich Peter’s house.” 

“ No need to be stepping, Hans, when I have a fair coach 
in which you may ride. Wait a moment, and I will go with 
you.” 

So it happened, then, that ere long Hans was seated beside 
Herr Kleimer on the soft cushions of the fine coach and riding 
off to Rich Peter. Along beautiful roads they went, beside 
fields where the ripening grain bent to the breeze in long lines 
of rippling golden waves. Past fruit-laden orchards and 
around a little fringe of woodland the way led, coming anon 
into the fields surrounding the house of Rich Peter. 

All this while, little had been the talk of Happy Hans, whose 
106 



Hans the Wise 

mind was much on the matter before him. And to say he 
saw no solution of the problem is to tell only the truth. 

“ I wonder what is wrong ahead,” said Herr Kleimer, as 


The Farm-hands Meet with a Difficulty. 

a bend in the road allowed of a sight being had of the gate 
to Rich Peter’s, before which there was gathered an excited 
group of perhaps a dozen servants and farm-hands. 

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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

“We shall soon see,” said Hans; and even as he spoke 
the coach drew near enough for them to hear some of the 
words that were passing to and fro from one farm-hand to 
another in the group about the gate. 

How Hans did laugh then, when he had an inkling of the 
trouble! And while he laughed the coach stopped, and he 
and Herr Kleimer got out. 

This is what had happened: 

One of the farm-hands had just returned from the forest 
with a load of freshly cut bean-poles which were so long and 
protruded so far on both sides of his wheelbarrow that, try as 
he could, he could not wheel them through the gate. 

That was a comical predicament for sure and certain, and 
Hans laughed until the tears stood in his eyes like great pearls. 

As for Herr Kleimer, he was now quite provoked, and 
looking at Hans in surprise and wonder, he said: 

“Why do you laugh, Hans? This is a serious matter. 
Here are sucfy long bean-poles they won’t go through the gate, 
and how is the man ever to get them into the garden? That 
is just like Rich Peter! He must always be saving and stingy, 
and here he has built the bricks of his wall so as to leave only 
this narrow gate. Now we must send for the carpenter to 
come with his saw and cut off the two ends of the bean-poles. 

No, that would never do, said the farm-hand, for then 
the poles would be too short for the beans. 

But for all Herr Kleimer and the farm-hand spoke so 
seriously, Hans never once stopped laughing. At last, how- 
ever, he tried to speak. “Ha, ha, ha!” said he; “ did ever 
a body see people so comical? And did ever a body see peo- 
ple so stupid ! Oh me, oh my ! such stupidity I never saw be- 

108 


Hans the Wise 

fore! If the load of poles is so wide it won’t go through the 
gate, why don’t they tear down the bricks on one side of the 
gate and make the opening wider? ” 

For a moment no one spoke; everybody looked at Hans in 
wonder. Then one and all gave a mighty cheer, and next 
minute were working happily throwing down one brick after 
another as fast as ever they could. 

Herr Kleimer, his lips trembling, and almost with tears in 
his eyes, now turned to his companion. “ Hans,” said he, 
“ I humbly apologize; I humbly beg your pardon, and crave 
forgiveness for speaking as I did. Who besides a clever one 
like yourself would ever have thought of this fine way out 
of such a serious trouble? You have saved Rich Peter’s bean- 
poles from being shortened and his farm-hand from a scold- 
ing. You certainly are a clever one! ” 

When Herr Kleimer said Hans had saved the farm-hand 
from a scolding, he told what he believed to be the truth. 
Imagine his surprise, then, a few minutes later, to see Rich 
Peter come tearing down the walk, waving his long cane and 
shouting loudly like a crazy person. 

“ Stop, you numskulls ! Stop ! Stop, you silly dolts ! 
Why are you tearing down my beautiful wall? Who ordered 
you to ruin the front of my beautiful gate?” 

Those were the words Rich Peter spoke, and never were 
orders more quickly obeyed. But they came too late, for now 
scarce one brick was left standing upon another, and that side 
of the gate seemed little better than a heap of rubbish. 

“Who ordered you to do this crazy work?” again cried 
Rich Peter, as he came running up to his men, and brought 
down his cane so hard that, had the fellows not quickly scat- 

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IV ill Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

tered, some one must needs have felt a warm whack dust- 
ing his jacket. 

“ I did,” said Hans, speaking up boldly; “ I bade the men 
tear down the wall.” 

“ Yes,” quickly continued Herr Kleimer, “ and a clever idea 
it was too, Peter, as you are bound to admit when I tell you 
the load of bean-poles was too long to go through, and, but 
for Hans the Wise, might have stayed here in the road for- 
ever and a day.” 

Hans felt happy indeed, and proud also to hear these words 
of praise from Herr Kleimer, and sat with a stiff back and 
his head held high, never once deigning to look upon Rich 
Peter. 

“ Well,” raved Rich Peter, still as cross as two sticks, “ I 
do not know which is the craziest, you or Hans or the farm- 
hands; but I guess you all are buds on the same branch, and 
perhaps there are others in the world as stupid. But as for 
me, I wouldn’t tear down the gate; I would merely turn the 
poles around and carry them through the gate lengthwise.” 

“ My! my! yes, that is so! ” said the farm-hands. 

u Yes, that is true,” said Herr Kleimer. 

“ Why did we not think of that ourselves? ” said they all. 
All, indeed, except Hans the Wise, who was so proud of what 
he had done that, still holding his head high and looking neither 
to the right nor to the left, he heard never one single word of 
what was said. 

“ Well,” spoke up Rich Peter, “ the eggs are broken and 
can’t be mended; so go in with the load; and, Herr Kleimer, 
will you be good enough to attend me to the house and remain 
to dinner? As for this crazy fellow whom you call Hans, my 

no 


Hans the Wise 

servants can tumble him into the dungeon, and in the morn- 
ing we will give him a warm birch twigging and send him oh 
humping.” . 

Oho ! said Hans. “ So that is the music to which I 
must dance, is it? And I am Crazy Hans, am I? Perhaps 
by and by you will think I am Clever Hans. I — ” 

But he did n’t have time to say any more, for Rich Peter 
had already ordered his men to seize him; and the burly fel- 
lows, thinking haste might save them a good drubbing for their 
own part in the affair, quickly had him bound; and before he 
realized what had happened the key turned in the lock and 
there he was alone in the dark dungeon. 

“ Who would ever have thought a body could be so stupid? ” 
said Herr Kleimer, forgetting how he had a moment before 
praised Hans for his cleverness. 

“ Yes,” said Rich Peter, “ there are certainly some very 
stupid people in this world.” As he spoke he looked at Herr 
Kleimer and laughed. 

“ I wonder why Rich Peter laughs,” thought Herr Kleimer; 
“ perhaps it is because he is happy, or perhaps he has cap- 
tured the robbers and regained the treasure. I will ask 
him.” 

But what Herr Kleimer had for an answer was only a 
shake of the head. No, the robbers were not captured, and 
by Rich Peter’s glum looks he thought little hope existed of 
getting back his treasure. “ The wedding must be postponed, 
Herr Kleimer,” he said; “ for now that Peter is a poor lad, 
he must enter the army and stay there until we have riches 
again, which, with a few good harvests, I hope will come soon. 
It is strange what can have become of the robbers, for, though 

hi 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 


we have searched high and low, never a sign or a track of 
them can be found anywhere.” 



Rich Peter Displays His Wrath. 


“ That is too bad,” said Herr Kleimer. “ And now that 
Hans the Wise is in prison there is no more hope.” 


Hans the Wise 

“ Did you expect that simpleton to get back my treasure? ” 
asked Rich Peter. 

“ Yes, I did,” replied Herr Kleimer, “ for in some ways 
Hans is very clever.” 

By this time they had entered the house and could smell the 
savor of good things a-cooking in the kitchen. 

“ I have a fat capon on the spit before the fire, Herr 
Kleimer,” said Rich Peter; “ soon we shall have dinner.” 

Meanwhile, Young Peter had bidden farewell to Katrinka 
and set forth for home, putting one foot before the other 
slowly, for so sad was his heart that his legs must needs 
lag. 

Katrinka watched Young Peter until he was lost to sight 
on the highway, then, with tears in her eyes, she turned and 
entered the house, wondering if the lad would be killed in the 
wars, and if she would never see him again. 

That was a sad way for two young people to be feeling on 
what should have been the eve of their wedding, and no mis- 
take, especially with the cake all frosted and the invitations 
issued. There were some in the town that said Rich Peter 
was a hard, crusty old man, who might have shared what he 
had left with Young Peter, and so made the lad and lass 
happy; while others whispered that ’t was likely Rich Peter 
had more than one penny left, and they even doubted rob- 
bers having taken any of the treasure, but thought Rich Peter 
had hidden it away, being too stingy to give any to Young 
Peter that he might marry Katrinka. 

However this may have been I do not know, for ’t is al- 
ways so that there are some people must ever have a word or 
two to say on all such matters. 

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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

One thing was very true, however : the wedding must needs 
be postponed and pleading would be of no avail. No one 
knew this better than Young Peter, whose lagging steps 
brought him at last to the tumble-down gate. 

“Oho! what has happened here?” said he, his surprise 
at the pile of stones making him for the moment forget his 
own troubles. Then he hurried off to the house and soon 
was hearing the whole story. 

My, but Young Peter was provoked when he heard how 
Rich Peter had treated Hans! “ Release him at once, I pray 
you, Father,” he said; “ he intended only help and not harm, 
and a shame it is to us for so treating him. Please release 
Hans, and I will myself go and rebuild what has been torn 
down.” 

That certainly was a very kind way for Young Peter to 
speak; and never even waiting for an answer, he set forth to 
begin the rebuilding. 

Rich Peter pulled a wry face over these words, I can tell 
you, and it was plain he did not like the way matters were 
going. 

“Hold, lad!” he called, leaping from his chair and run- 
ning after Young Peter. “This is no labor for fine folks; 
I will have my men rebuild the gate in the morning.” 

Young Peter heard no part of what Rich Peter said, how- 
ever, for already he was hurrying past the door and through 
the courtyard, reaching the gate before Rich Peter, followed 
by Herr Kleimer, had come from out the house. 

Meanwhile, Hans was in the dungeon, wondering what 
would happen next. He did not know how to account for 

114 


Hans the Wise 

such treatment. “ That Rich Peter is certainly a numskull,” 
he said, “ but some time he — ” 

Hans did n’t finish that sentence, for now there came a great 
racket of shouting and cheering outside, and the next minute 
the dungeon door opened and Hans found himself lifted to 
the shoulders of four stout men and borne out to the court- 
yard in triumph. 

Now the first thing Hans saw was Young Peter dancing 
up and down like a crazy person, while in the arms of Rich 
Peter reposed the brass-bound treasure-box. 

“Oh, Hans!” cried the happy Kleimer, running forward 
and grasping his hand, “ you certainly were a clever one to 
order the tearing down of the gate. See! Young Peter 
found the treasure in a little hollow pit which had been dug 
just underneath the bottom bricks at one edge of the gate and 
so was completely hidden when the bricks were put back in 
place. This was where the sly robbers had concealed the 
treasure-box, and Peter never would have found it if you had 
not ordered the gate torn down. Now Katrinka can be mar- 
ried to-morrow! ” 

As Herr Kleimer predicted, so it happened, and as fine 
and happy a wedding that proved as ever a body would wish 
to see. Nothing there was too good for Hans, and every 
notable in the town was glad to shake his hand. 

No one ever discovered the robbers, and Rich Peter never 
made much effort in that line. Indeed, there were some good 
folk who said he even forgot to thank Hans for finding the 
treasure; and any one with half a look could see how he had 
little joy at the wedding, so that Herr Kleimer’s good dame 

1 15 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

wondered would his sour face curdle the cream. However, 
Young Peter and Katrinka were too happy to mind that; and 
when they were happy, that was quite enough for one wedding, 
don’t you think so ? 


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Three — and a Fourth 


I N days of old, when there were many brave knights who 
rode in tournaments and jousted for the favors of fair 
ladies, it was the custom for those who tired of such 
sport to ride out into the deep forests and through far 
lands over sea seeking new and strange adventures. Always 
when such a knight returned again into his own country and 
came within the walls of the king’s castle, there quickly gath- 
ered about him the king and queen and all the lords and ladies 
of the court. Then the knight would relate the many strange 
happenings that had befallen him on his quest. That, indeed, 
was a fine custom, for in those days there were neither maga- 
zines nor books, and stories were known only by the spoken 
word and in lays sung by the minstrels. 

Yes, indeed, that was a fine custom! But in the good town 
of Noodleburg there were no knights to ride in tournaments, 
and none to travel in far lands seeking adventure; there were 
only the merchants, the farmers, and such other peaceful stay- 
at-homes as are always to be found in every small town. All 
of this is just as true as that Granny Jones’s black tabby has six 
white kittens; and a pity it is, too, for now the Mayor of 
Noodleburg steps out into the town square and vows and de- 
clares that if this was the custom of old, it should be the custom 
to-day, and that he would like to find a few stout lads to ride 

1 17 


Will Bradley's Wonderbox Stories 

out upon adventure and bring back such thrilling tales as would 
be well worth the telling. 



One Little Policeman, One Fat Innkeeper, and One Tall Soldier Fare Forth 

upon the Adventure. 


Well, in the end they searched here, there, and yonder, even 
to the uttermost of the four corners of the city, and this is what 

1 1 8 


T hree — and a Fourth 

they found: one little policeman, one fat innkeeper, and one 
tall soldier. These three they found, and these three said they 
were ready to fare forth upon the adventure. 

Off the three started, as brave as ever went knights in days 
of old, and pretty soon came to the cross-roads outside the town. 

One road led to the east, and on that road went the little 
policeman. 

One road led to the west, and on that road went the fat 
innkeeper. 

One road led to the north, and on that road went the tall 
soldier. 

On and on they traveled — one on the road to the rising 
sun; one on the road to the setting sun; and one into the far 
country of ice and snow where the polar bears live. And what- 
ever became of them I do not know, for never again were they 
seen in Noodleburg. 

Then one day there came riding up to the Mayor a fine brave 
lad, astride a little donkey. His name was Boots. 

Would the Mayor like to have him ride out upon an ad- 
venture ? 

“ Why, yes.” The Mayor was tired of waiting for the re- 
turn of the three; he would now be glad to have a fourth. 

So the lad, astride his little donkey, rode out upon the high- 
way; and when he came to the cross-roads, he looked to the 
east, and said, “ No, I won’t go that road, for that is the way 
the little policeman went.” Then he looked to the west and 
to the north, and to these also he said, “ No ”; for those were 
the roads taken by the innkeeper and the soldier. 

“ No,” said the brave lad, “ I will not ride to the east or 
the west or the north; I will ride only to the south.” So he 

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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

turned his donkey around and rode off upon the south road, 
which led no other way than straight back into Noodleburg. 
And it was at home in Noodleburg the brave lad found his ad- 
venture; which, as Neighbor Brown tells me, is as oft might 
happen with many another lad if he but had one tenth part of 
the wisdom of Solomon. 

“ One tenth part of the wisdom of Solomon,” said I; “ why, 
that is more than is now in all the world, even if it were put 
together in one big pile ! ” 

Don’t you believe it? Well, listen: 

When the little lad returned to within sight of the town 
gates, he said: 

“ If I ride straight into Noodleburg, folks will crowd about 
me and say, ‘ Here is Boots back again from his travels, with 
a tale to tell of his adventure; let us send word to the Mayor.’ 
Which would be sad indeed, for not so much of an adventure 
have I had as might make a tale of three words, or even two.” 

Then he got down from off his donkey and let the beast crop 
the long sweet grass by the roadside and found a comfortable 
seat in the shade of an oak-tree. The sun was about at noon, 
so he felt in the pocket of his coat and found a bit of cold 
meat-pie and an apple, and he made of these as fine a meal as 
ever a hungry lad might tuck beneath his belt. 

“ It is yet so early in the afternoon,” thought Boots, “ and 
the sun is so hot that I will rest awhile before going farther on 
my travels; and no better place can I find for that rest than in 
the shade of this big oak.” 

So he stretched full length upon the ground, with his cheek 
in the grass, and would soon have been fast asleep but for this 

120 


Three — and a Fourth 



strange happening: hardly did his ear touch the ground when 
he heard a tapping sound, such as might have been made by a 
beetle or some other big bug trying to escape, and a little voice, 
more tiny than that of the smallest baby, said: 


Boots. 


“ Let me out! Let me out! ” 

Boots was on his feet in a jiffy; yet, look about as he would, 
nowhere could he see hide or hair of any living thing save only 
his donkey contentedly cropping at the wayside. 

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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stones 

“ Let me out! Let me out! ” 

And now the voice was so faint it could hardly be heard 
above the whispering of the breeze as it ran in gentle waves 
across the meadow to the wings of the great red mill, or the 
singing of the brook that tumbled lazily over the green and 
silver pebbles on its way to the water-wheel down yonder. 

“ Oh, ho ! ” said Boots, “ I think you must be under the roots 
of this tree; I will just dig about a bit and see.” So he dug 
and dug, until pretty soon he came to a flat stone ; and on the 
stone there were carved such strange characters as Boots had 
never seen in any of his school-books, or even at the big library 
up in the village. This is no wonder, either, for the characters 
were written by King Solomon the Wise, and signed with his 
great seal. What they said, word for word, I do not know, 
but what they really meant was neither more nor less than just 
this : he who found that stone, if he were wise would straight- 
way cover it up again and look no farther; and especially, he 
should never lift it up and uncover the brass bottle to be found 
underneath; and under no condition should he open the brass 
bottle. 

Yes, that was the meaning of those strange characters writ- 
ten on the stone; but Boots did not know that; and if he had 
known, I half suspect he would have looked anyway, which, 
for that matter, is no more than you or I or Neighbor Brown 
would have done had we been in Boots’s place. 

“ Let me out! Let me out! ” 

And now the voice was harsh and querulous and well nigh 
as big as Boots’s own. Then up came the flat stone, and up 
came the brass bottle, and nearly was the bottle opened when 
Boots thought: 


122 


Three — and a Fourth 

u Maybe there is something to be gained from not burning 
my fingers by being in too much of a hurry.” So he said: 
“Wait a bit! Wait a bit! Perhaps I will let you out, and 
then again, perhaps I won’t. But first of all we must make a 
bit of a bargain.” 

Well, there were few words lost on that proposal, and in a 
moment off came the top of the brass bottle, and out upon the 
ground jumped a Little Mannikin dressed all in scarlet. 

“ My! Oh, my! ” said the Mannikin, “ but I am stiff and 
sore, and every bone in my body knows a different ache. For 
three thousand years I have been imprisoned in that brass 
bottle with no room to move about, or stretch my legs, or find 
any comfort whatsoever.” 

u Well, now at last you are free,” said Boots, “ and it is 
time to pay the score.” 

Yes, the Mannikin would do that; for it was good to be free 
again, to breathe the fresh air, and to feel the warm sun upon 
one’s back after so long a time in the cold earth. See ! Boots 
was just to take a green oak-leaf, and do so and so, and there 
would be as fine a suit of clothes as he could ask for; and then 
if he would dig a bit under the oak-tree, he would find a chest 
of gold and silver coins, enough to make him rich all the days 
of his life. 

That was the bargain Boots had made with the Mannikin, 
and it was n’t long before he was wearing his new clothes and 
kneeling before a chest of gold and silver money. Then his 
eyes were near popping out of his head, for never before had 
he seen so much wealth. 

With his pockets stuffed full of gold, Boots was soon on the 
road into Noodleburg, and trudging at his heels was the Little 

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Will Bradley s W onderbox Stories 

Mannikin; for that he should go, too, was part of their bargain. 

Now you must be told that on this very morning the Mayor 
had drawn a hundred gold dollars from the bank and had 
placed them in a bag upon the shelf in the pantry. Then 
straightway he forgot where they were; and when he went to 
look and could not find them, such a hue and cry he set up as 



“ Never before had he seen so much wealth.” 


brought the goodwife and servants into the room to learn 
what it was all about. 

“ I have been robbed of a hundred round gold dollars ! ” 
cried the Mayor, excitedly. “ Go hunt for the thief! ” 

So it happened that when Boots reached the main street of 
Noodleburg, folks were all bustling about, and crying: 

“ Catch the thief! Catch the thief! ” 

Then, as you will quickly guess, they soon spied Boots. 

124 


T hree — and a Fourth 


And no sooner spied him than they saw his pockets bulging 
with gold dollars. 

“Here is the thief!” they all shouted. “Boots is the 
thief! ” 

Then straightway they led him before the Mayor, and in 
the end the Mayor had Boots’s gold dollars, and Boots was 
cooling his heels in jail. And all of this had happened in spite 
of the fact that Boots told the Mayor about the Little Manni- 
kin and the chest under the oak-tree. 

Some folks who stood by said it was a pity to see the little 
lad marched off to jail, and one of these, a tall lanky fellow, 
even went so far as to say he believed Boots was telling no 
more than the very truth; and as for himself, he was going to 
follow the Mannikin and ask a question or two of his own. 

Then off he stepped at a lively pace to the jail, and there 
was the Mannikin astride a black cat, riding up and down in 
front of the building, and all the children laughing and think- 
ing it the greatest sport ever seen. 

Well, it did n’t take much coaxing until the Lanky One had 
the Mannikin off on a side street. Then, was it true that he 
could do so and so and so and so? Yes, the Mannikin could 
do all that and more too. All right; if that were so, the Man- 
nikin could just fetch a fine meal, for the Lanky One was 
hungry. Nothing could be easier. And there before them 
was a smoking capon, juicy and tender, and as sweet a morsel 
as ever came from Dame Gretchen’s oven. 

And just such another capon as this Dame Gretchen was at 
that very moment placing upon the table for her goodman’s 
dinner. Then she went to the cellar to draw a mug of cider, 
and, in that nick of time, in at the door came the black cat; and 

125 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

when it went out again, in its mouth was Dame Gretchen’s 
capon. 

My, such a hue and cry as there was then in that house ! 

“ A thief has stolen my 
capon! Catch the thief! ” 

Those were the words 
that came flying out of the 
window. And, of course, 
every one thought the 
Lanky Lad was the thief; 
so his hands were bound 
behind his back and off he 
was marched to jail. 

Just as Boots had told 
about the Mannikin, so also 
the lad told, but no more 
came of it than just that the 
Mayor thought he would 
find out a thing or two for 
himself. Then off he 
stepped through the town, 
and out of the town gates, 
and along the highway un- 
til he came to the oak-tree, 
where, when he had dug 
about a bit, he found the 
chest, just as Boots had buried it. 

Meanwhile, affairs were moving at a lively pace in Noodle- 
burg, for the Chief Jailer had vowed and declared how the 
two thieves would have to be beheaded. Yes, he had sent for 

126 



‘ There was the Mannikin 


Three — and a Fourth 


the Lord High Executioner to come with his big sword, and 
already that dread official was on his way. No wonder there 
was excitement in the town, and no wonder Boots wished he 
had never dug up that flat stone and opened the brass bottle ! 
Of course, Boots and the Lanky Lad did n’t know that already 
the Mayor had learned the truth; and anyway, it was a long 
journey from the oak-tree back to the town, and the Mayor 
was fat and could n’t walk very fast, so like as not he would n’t 
arrive in time not to be too late. 

When the Mayor reached the edge of town, whom should he 
meet coming out of the gate but the Little Mannikin. “ Oh, 
ho ! ” said he. “ Is it true that you can do all these wonderful 
things that have been told of you?” Yes, it was true the 
Mannikin could do that and much more, and now would the 
Mayor like to see some of his tricks? Certainly, the Mayor 

would like to see 
what the Little 
Mannikin could 
do. “ Look,” said 
he, “ over yonder 
is a simple lad try- 
ing to catch fish in 
a pail. Have you 
power to make 
him catch a sea- 

astride a black cat.” , ^ jj 

serpent? 

My, how the Little Mannikin laughed! Could he make the 
simpleton catch a sea-serpent? Just watch and see! 

So they went over to where the simpleton was trying to catch 
fish in a pail. But I, for one, wish the Mayor had gone 

127 



Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 



straight to the jail and released Boots and the Lanky Lad, for 
now the Lord High Executioner had his sharpened sword on 
his shoulder and was stepping along lively toward the jail. If 
Boots and the Lanky Lad were looking out of the window and 

saw this sight, they 
must have been terri- 
bly frightened. 

However, it did n’t 
take the Little Manni- 
kin long to do his 
trick; and it didn’t 
take the Mayor long 
to get back into town. 
No wonder was that, 
either; for such a ter- 
rible sea-serpent as 
came out of the sim- 
pleton’s pail was 
enough to frighten any 
one and make him 
run fast, even though 

he were twice as fat 

as the Mayor, which 

. ... would be very fat in- 

A simple lad trying to catch fish in a pail.’ ” (] ee( J 

“ Cut their heads off! ” yelled the Chief Jailer. 

“ That I will,” answered the Lord High Executioner, and 
he raised his sword for the blow. 


Stop ! shouted the Mayor, almost out of breath from his 
128 


Three — and a Fourth 

long, fast run. “They are both innocent; give them their 
freedom.” 

So Boots and the Lanky Lad were allowed to depart. As 
for the Mayor, he found his gold dollars on the shelf in the 
pantry, just where he had left them, but the goodwife Gretchen 
never again saw her fat capon. Whatever became of the 
Lanky Lad I do not know, but at least I am glad he was not 
beheaded. 

When Boots came again to the edge of town, there was the 
Mannikin sitting on a rock and grinning contentedly. And 
now the Mannikin would go along with Boots as they had bar- 
gained in the beginning. It was easy to see that Boots little 
liked that idea, but a bargain was a bargain and he did n’t say 
no. So the two trudged along the highway — first Boots, and 
at his heels the Mannikin; and not one word did either say to 
the other until they came once more to the big oak. 

By this time it was evening, and the oak had its top in the 
last slant rays of the setting sun, while at its base the shadows 
were so cool and so inviting that Boots said he would lie down 
and take a bit of a nap, for certainly he was tired from all the 
happenings of that day in Noodleburg. 

Yes, Boots was for taking a nap; but first of all, he would 
like to know if it were true, as folks said, that the Mannikin 
had conjured a fat capon for the Lanky Lad and had fright- 
ened the Mayor with a great sea-serpent. 

Oh, the Mannikin had done all this and more too. Was 
there anything else Boots would like to know? 

Why, yes; Boots had been thinking and wondering how the 
Mannikin ever could have squeezed his body into that small 

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Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 

brass bottle, which was no more than six inches high; and now, 
if the Mannikin would be so kind, Boots would like to see him 
do that trick again. 

Such an easy trick as that the Mannikin could do in a jiffy; 
it was too bad Boots did n’t ask something more difficult. 


The Lord High Executioner was stepping along lively toward the jail.” 



Look! the Mannikin would jump into the bottle and out again, 
and perhaps by that time Boots would think of something else 
to have him do. 

Well, quick as a wink into the bottle jumped the Mannikin, 
and quick as a wink Boots clapped on the cover. My, what a 
fuss the little fellow made then! He kicked, and scratched, 

130 


Three — and a Fourth 

and shouted, and made such a time that there was nothing to 
be done only for Boots to bury him under the flat stone on 
which was the seal of Solomon. 

Then Boots stretched out on the soft grass and went to sleep 
and did not wake up again until the next morning. After he 
had rubbed the sleep from out his eyes he thought of the chest 
and the gold dollars. “ I will put a few of the coins in my 
pocket,” he said; “ they will come handy over in Noodleburg.” 

But for all Boots searched here, there, and yonder, no sign 
could he see of the chest. Then he said, “ Oh, well, if I can- 
not find the chest, I will just free the Mannikin until he gets me 
some more gold dollars.” 

Certainly, that was the thing to do; for it would be foolish 
to go into Noodleburg with no gold jingling in one’s pocket 
when gold was to be had merely for the asking. 

Well, just as happened with the chest now happened with 
the bottle; up and down and all around Boots searched, but 
never again did he see the Little Mannikin. 

A good thing this was, too ; for no telling what might happen 
if the little fellow were wandering around free in this big 
world. Yet if ever I went to sleep beneath that oak-tree and 
heard a tapping such as Boots heard, I would dig about a bit; 
and if I found the stone I would lift it up; and open the brass 
bottle, just as Boots did. 

So I say again that in all the world there is not one tenth 
part the wisdom of Solomon, even if it were put together in one 
big pile. 


Snip and Stitch 

S NIP and stitch, snip and stitch; the same to-day, the 
same to-morrow; that is how it was with the Little 
Tailor, all day long and every day. Yes, snip, snip, 
snip; through the cloth he would ply his great shears; 
then stitch, stitch, stitch; through the cloth he would ply his 
needle; and always his eyes twinkled and he hummed a lively 
tune, for he was young and jolly and thought this world a fine 
place in which to live, especially as he heard the goodwife step- 
ping about in the kitchen, and could smell the cabbage broth 
a-boiling on the fire for his dinner. 

Well, when the Little Tailor and his wife had been married 
about a year, there was born to them a fine son; and when they 
had been married about two years, there was born to them 
another fine son; and because they had found no name for the 
first son, now they found it no easier to name the second. 

“ See, Wife,” said the Little Tailor, “ our two lads we will 
call Snip and Stitch, for better names than those we cannot find 
in all the length and breadth of the land.” 

So Snip and Stitch the two lads were named; and Snip was 
the elder and Stitch the younger. 

Then the days slipped merrily by, and after the days, the 
months, and after the months, the years, and when a score had 
run their course, the Little Tailor said : 

132 


Snip and Stitch 

“ Wife, now has come the time when we may buy a cow 
and a pig and a few chickens and settle down on a bit of 
farm-land, for we have worked long and faithfully to that 



The Little Tailor. 


end and there are enough gold dollars on the shelf to pay 
the score.” 

Yes, the goodwife would do that, for no one likes to abide 
forever in one spot; but see, how about the two lads Snip and 
Stitch ? 

Oh, the Little Tailor had thought of all that. There were 
133 


Will Bradley s W onderbox Stories < 

one or two round gold dollars that could be spared for the 
lads; then, too, there was the shop where they could continue 
the tailoring and earn a fair living. 

Well, when the hand-shaking was over, and the good-bys 
said, and the two lads were at last alone in the shop, said Snip 
the elder to Stitch the younger : 

“ Brother, we now have the shop and three gold dollars; but 
as for me, I would not forever sit cross-legged upon a table and 
stitch seams, as did our father, neither would I ply the shears 
all day long, snip, snip, snip the cloth for other folk’s raiment. 
No; there is better than that to be had out in the big world if 
one but has the wits to find it.” 

Stitch thought that might be so. “ But,” said he, “ though 
much may be gained, so, also, much might be lost; and what is 
good for father is good for son; so I for one will just remain 
at home and do the tailoring.” 

In that nick of time who should come riding up to the shop 
but a messenger from the palace. The King had stepped on 
the hem of his best purple robe and had torn it badly. That 
was what the messenger said; also he told how the royal tailor 
could never mend the tear to the King’s satisfaction. And 
now would Snip or Stitch come and try his hand at the job, for 
the King expected company that evening, and nothing would 
do but he must wear the robe? 

Snip looked at Stitch, and Stitch looked at Snip. At last 
Snip said: 

“ Brother, all that is now wanted is merely mending. Go 
you to the palace and ply such a nimble needle that mayhap 
the King will order a new robe. Then it is I who will serve 
him, and in such a fine manner as to make our fortune, for at 

i34 


Snip and Stitch 

cutting and shaping of robes in the latest fashion there is not 
my equal in all the realm.” 



Stitch thought there were others who might have something 
to say on that matter; but he took the suggestion kindly, and 

i35 


Will Bradley s W onderbox Stories 

said nothing more than bid the messenger lead the way. 

When Stitch reached the palace, he was not long in mending 
the robe; and when he had finished, so well had he done the 
work that if any one was ever pleased, surely that person was 
the King. Nothing now was too good for a reward, and in 
the end the King took Stitch into a fine room where on a carved 
oaken table stood two square caskets, one of which was all of 
gold, beautifully carved, and the other was of pewter, quaintly 
hammered. 

“ Choose,” said the King, pointing to the caskets. “ Choose 
one of these as your reward for mending my robe; and whether 
it be the gold one or the pewter, you are full welcome ; and with 
the casket go my thanks.” 

“ Oui! ” thought Stitch; “ if I choose the gold casket, it may 
be full of jewels, enough to make me rich all the days of my 
life; and certainly that would be well worth the choosing. On 
the other hand, if I choose the pewter casket, it may be empty; 
but even thus, it will be all the mending was worth and more 
too. Also, it will be such as a tailor may keep in his shop with 
no fear of robbers.” Then to the King he said: “ I will 
choose the pewter casket, Your Majesty, and thank you for 
your generosity, for of much more worth it is than my little 
mending.” 

When Stitch reached home, no sooner had he placed the 
pewter casket upon the floor than a shadow crossed the 
threshold, and there in the doorway stood Snip. 

“ And what is this you have here, Brother? ” said Snip. 

Oh, so and so, and so and so; just a pewter casket the King 
had given him. That was what Stitch answered Snip, and in 
the end he told the whole story. 

136 


Snip and Stitch 

How Snip did fuss and fume ! 

Was Stitch such a numskull as to choose a pewter casket 
when he might have had a gold one? Did any one ever have 
such a stupid brother! Well, as for him, never would he re- 
main and work in the shop with such a noodle ! No, he would 
just take as his share of the business the three gold dollars, 
and go out into the world to seek his fortune. 

“ And may good luck be your way-fellow,” said Stitch. 

“ And may much profit come of your pewter casket,” said 
Snip. For now that he had the three gold dollars jingling in 
his pocket he was not in such a huff. But his words came from 
his teeth only, and no good-will was there back of them. 

Thus they parted, and in a while Snip was but a speck on the 
brow of the hill where the highroad dipped into the next town. 
Then Stitch put the pewter casket on the shelf and climbed 
upon his bench, where he sat cross-legged and let his needle 
run merrily in and out of the cloth and along the seams that 
went to the making of a fine garment. 

“ What was in the pewter casket? ” you ask. Well, that I 
don’t know, for neither Snip nor Stitch had thought to lift the 
lid and look. But there the casket rested on the shelf, making 
such a brave showing in the little shop as might be well worth 
more than one look by any one who chanced to be stepping that 
way. And on the morrow there was one who did step that 
way, and this one was no less a person than the Burgomaster. 

My, how the Burgomaster did stare when he saw the pewter 
casket! You see, once he had been invited to the palace, and 
had seen the casket beside the gold one on the oak table, and 
now as plain as two and two make four, the King must have 
given the casket to Stitch. And if the King did that, of course 

137 


Will Bradley s Wonderbox Stories 

the King must be a special friend of the tailor. Yes, all of that 
was perfectly plain; and as the Burgomaster needed some new 
clothes, why, he would just patronize Stitch. And when he 

paid for the clothes, he would n’t 
fuss and fume and say the bill 
was too high, as was his usual 
custom; no, he would slap Stitch 
on the back and tell him the fit 
was fine, and then he would pay 
a gold dollar more than asked; 
for it would be well to be liberal 
and open-handed with one who 
was certainly a friend of the 
King. 

All of these thoughts passed 
through the Burgomaster’s mind 
in that short space of time while 
he was looking at the pewter cas- 
ket; and no longer time did it 
take him to order a new suit, 
which in the end he paid for just 
as he had planned. Nor did he 
even wait for the tailor to send a 
bill, but threw the gold dollars 
_ „ , , down upon the table with the 

“ The Burgomaster walked out of the • , i • i c •• i i 

shop with a proud stride.” merriest kind of a Jingle, and, 

staff in hand, walked out of the 
shop with such a proud stride that he who looked once must 
needs have looked again, for the new suit was of velvet and 
silk and as fine a sight as might be. 

138 



Snip and Stitch 

One there was, too, who did look; he was a swordsman in 
the King’s Guard, and as dandy and dashing a fellow as had 
ever found favor among the fine ladies of Noodleburg. He 
was in love with Kassy, the Burgomaster’s daughter, and when 
he saw the Burgomaster walking so proudly out of the little 



tailor-shop, he twisted his mustachios to the sharpest points 
and thought: “ What is good for a father-in-law is good for 
a son-in-law. I will patronize the same tailor.” Of course, 
he only thought this, and did n’t say it out loud; for he was not 
yet the Burgomaster’s son-in-law, but only hoped to be. 

139 


Will Bradley's W onderbox Stories 

Well, as it went with the Burgomaster, so it went now with 
the swordsman of the King’s Guard; and just as he stepped 
across the threshold into the little shop Stitch had lifted the lid 
and was dropping the Burgomaster’s golden dollars into the 
pewter casket. 

When the swordsman’s suit was finished, he too paid lib- 
erally, for it was easy to see that Stitch was a friend of the 
Burgomaster, and as such, there would be no harm in having 
his good-will. 

Such a gallant showing the swordsman made in his new 
clothes as he came out of the shop and flashed his sword in the 
sun that no wonder he caught the eye of the King’s drummer; 
and no wonder the King’s drummer was lost in admiration of 
such glorious raiment. 

“ I need a new uniform, and this is where I will buy it,” said 
he ; and the next minute he was following his big drum through 
the doorway into the shop. 

Yes, the tailor would make a new uniform for the King’s 
drummer; but wait a minute, there was something else to be 
attended to first. And as he spoke Stitch dropped into the 
pewter casket the gold dollars that had been paid him by the 
swordsman of the King’s Guard. 

Certainly never before nor since was there heard in Noodle- 
burg such a tune as the drummer beat upon his big drum when 
he marched out of the shop in his new uniform. And of 
course, when a drummer is beating a fine tune, especially upon 
a big drum, every one will be looking in that direction. 

Yes; every one looked at the drummer in his new uniform; 
but the first to look was the grocer. 

“ My, but Stitch is prosperous ! ” thought the grocer. “ I 
140 



Snip and Stitch 

will just give him extra measure and hold his trade, for where 
he trades, there others will trade also.’ , And while the grocer 
was filling his basket the little tailor was adding to the gold 


dollars in the pewter casket those which had been paid him by 
the King’s drummer. 

After this the days jogged along busily and there came not 
a one in which Stitch did not lift the lid of the pewter casket to 
drop in a fat round coin or two; and but seldom did he lift the 
lid to take one out, for not only did his trade thrive, but 


‘ I will just give him extra measure and hold his trade,’ 
said the grocer.” 


Will Bradleys W onderbox Stories 



butcher, baker, farmer, and miller all served him liberally and 
charged lightly. 

Well, as has oft been said, “ Where there is fire, one must 
expect smoke.” So in the end, what with folk buzzing here 

and gossiping there, 
some word of Stitch 
must needs reach his 
father and mother 
on the farm. Then 
straightway into the 
town they both came 
and to the little shop 
where, w T hen the 
greetings were over, 
his father would 
have Stitch tell him 
about the visit to 
the King and the 
. present of the pew- 

“ The drummer beat upon his big drum when he , 

marched out of the shop.” ter casket. 

“ And, Stitch, 


what did the casket contain? ” asked his mother. 

“ I do not know,” answered Stitch; “ I never looked.” 

“ It is not too late; let us look now,” said his father. 

So they put the casket upon the floor; and whereas one had 
placed it on the shelf, now it took two to take it down. Then 
they lifted the lid, and, wonder to behold, the casket was full 
of gold and silver coins to the very top ! 

“ That is a fine gift to come from the King, just for mend- 
ing his torn robe ! ” said his father. 

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Snip and Stitch 

“ Yes, indeed it is! ” said Stitch. 

But his mother only smiled and said nothing, as often hap- 
pens with mothers when fathers and sons are uttering words 
of wisdom. 

Of course every one in Noodleburg agreed with Stitch and 
his father that the pewter casket was a fine gift to have from 
the King, and I think so too. 

As for Snip, his three gold dollars did not take him very far 
out into the world, and when he heard about the pewter casket 
being full of gold and silver coins, he quickly put one foot 
before the other on the road for home. If Stitch ever took 
him back into the business and gave him any of the coins, that 
was his own affair, and is n’t told in this story. 



143 


Nip and Tuck 


O NCE upon a time in Noodleburg there dwelt a rich 
merchant of whom it was said that not in a whole 
week could one count all the coins that were his. 
Also at this time there lived in Noodleburg a mil- 
ler, who day in and day out ground corn for his neighbors. 

One daughter the merchant had, as fair and beautiful as 
might be found in a day’s tramp. And as for the miller, he 
had one son, so kind and jolly he was well liked by all. 

Now it is to be told that in the front hall of the merchant’s 
house there stood a suit of battered armor, with one hand out- 
stretched and at rest upon the hilt of a long sword. Where 
this armor came from I do not know, but there are some who 
say it was once worn by a crusader in the Holy Land, and others 
who whisper that it possessed some occult power and even could 
foretell the future. This I do know, however, that each day, 
as the rich merchant passed through the hallway on entering 
his home, he would rap the armor with his cane and ask it 
some question, whereupon it would rattle, and the merchant 
would then laugh or frown as best suited his mood. 

Well, upon a day when the miller’s iad, astride his little 
donkey, delivered his bag of meal to the merchant, and rap-tap- 
tapped at the back door, no one came to answer. So he lifted 
the latch and went inside. When he had placed the bag upon 
the table and could hear no one stirring about, he thought it 

144 


Nip and Tuck 

no harm to look here, there, and yonder and see the sights in 
such a fine house. So it happened that he went into the hall- 
way, and when he saw the suit of armor, straightway there 
popped into his mind the 
thought : 

“ Why not put on the 
armor and ask it to tell 
my fortune? ” 

That would be some- 
thing worth the doing 
for sure and certain, and 
soon the lad was un- 
buckling the straps and 
getting into the armor. 

No easy task this proved, 
either, but in the end it 
was accomplished, and 
the lad was safe and 
snug inside with his two 
eyes looking out through 
the slits in the headpiece. 

What he saw gave him 
such a start he nearly 
tumbled clattering to the 

floor, for his eyes were looking straight at as pretty a maiden 
as a lad’s eyes ever looked upon. 

Just then there was the sound of a key in the lock, and the 
front door opened, and in came the merchant. On a peg he 
hung his hat, and with his cane he whacked the armor over the 
shoulders. Then he looked upon the portrait of his 
pretty daughter, which hung upon the wall opposite, and 

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The Miller’s Lad. 



Will Bradley's W onderbox Stories 

rubbed his chin, and looked at the armor quizzically and said: 

“ Who is to marry my daughter? ” 

And the frightened lad inside the 
armor thought the merchant said: 
“ Who is hiding in my armor? ” 
And all in a tremble he an- 
swered: 

“ Only the miller’s lad.” 

My! If one could only have 
seen the merchant when he heard 
those words come faintly out of 
the armor’s head-piece. First he 
turned white as a turnip, then red 
as a beet; then he fussed and fumed 
and roared and raved, and, without 
waiting to take his hat from the 
peg, went stamping out of the house 
and hotfoot off to the miller’s. 

As you will quickly guess, no 
sooner did the front door close 
than the miller’s lad was getting 
out of the armor and hurrying through the back door. But 
for all his haste, he took time for one glance at the portrait, 
and thought that never in all the world might one ever find a 
lass so lovely. 

Whatever happened to the rich merchant at the mill and 
what he said to the miller I do not know, but so white were 
his coat and trousers with meal-dust and so rumpled his hair 
when he came out of the mill that ’t is likely the miller was 
more than his match. 

After this it was n’t long until a word or two reached the 
146 



Nip and Tuck 

townfolk, and in the end, when they had the whole story from 
first to last, even the farmer’s yokel laughed and thought it all 
a good joke. 

Of course this wasn’t very pleasant for the merchant; 
neither did it please the maid; though, truth to tell, she had 
seen the lad more than once and liked his looks, and so told 
her father. This did not mend 
matters you may be certain, and 
now nothing would do but the 
maid must be sent over hill and 
dale into a far country where, in 
a Walled City of Many Towers, 
with a gate of heavy planks be- 
fore which two soldiers stood 
guard, she was kept secure. So the 
weeks slipped by and the months, 
and when a year had passed on a 
day the miller’s lad said: 

“ Father, I would go out into 
the world and see new cities; for 
now I am tired of Noodleburg 
and wish much to try my fortune 
in other lands.” 

Yes, the lad might do that; the miller wouldn’t say no to 
such a plan; and here were a few round coins that could be 
spared from their savings. Then he bade his son good-by, 
and the lad walked out into the big world. 

Only a short way had he gone when whom should he meet 
but the rich merchant! Where was the miller’s lad going 
now, all dressed in his best clothes? That was what the mer- 
chant wondered, and he followed the wondering with asking. 

i47 



The Pretty Maiden. 


Will Bradley s W onderbox Stories 

When he had the answer, he screwed up the corner of his 
mouth and thought, “ Perhaps he will reach the walled city 
and win my daughter.” Then he invited the lad to his house 
and wrote a long letter, and in the letter he said that he who 
received it should take the lad and 
clap him into prison, with iron 
chains upon his wrists and ankles, 
and nothing to eat but dry bread, 
and nothing to drink but water; and 
furthermore, he was to be confined 
in a pitch-black dungeon, with damp, 
cold walls, and pools of water on 
the floor, and rats and mice for 
company. 

Yes, every word of this the mer- 
chant wrote in a letter, and he 
sealed it, and wrote on the outside 
a name and address. Then he gave 
the letter to the lad, and a few coins 
to pay for the trouble, and asked 
him to kindly stop on his journey 

The Farmer’s Yokel Laughed. , , r . r 3 

and deliver it. 

This the lad promised to do; and when he looked at the 
letter, he saw the name was that of the Lord High Con- 
stable, and the address was that of the Walled City of Many 
Towers. 

Now we will leave the miller’s lad on the road to the Walled 
City of Many Towers, with a merry whistle running over his 
lips, and the letter tucked away safely in the pocket of his coat. 
Never would he have stepped along so lively, and never would 
he have found such joy in his journey had he known the con- 

148 



Nip and Tuck 



tents of that letter; for no pleasure would it ever give any 
one to be stepping, one foot before the other, straight into the 
damp, dark walls of a dungeon. 

But, as Mother Pfounce used to say, “ much may happen 
’twixt cock-crowing and hen-roosting.” So now we will take 
up the story where it tells 
of two brave soldiers. 

One of these soldiers 
was called Nip. He was 
a cavalryman, and he rode 
a mighty war-horse that 
had carried him safely 
through many a terrible 
battle. His sword was so 
sharp and glistened so in 
the sun that no man might 
look upon it without fear, 
and the enemy sundered 
right and left whenever 
it saw him riding the field 
of battle. 

The other soldier had 
for his name Tuck. He 
was an infantryman, and 
wore a big black hat and 
carried a powerful gun. 

Fully as brave he was as 
Nip, but having no steed 
to ride, he did not make such a grand showing on the battle- 
field; neither was he such a famous leader, for, in very truth, 
Nip was a captain and commanded a whole company of cav- 

149 


The Cavalryman. 


Will Bradley's W onderbox Stories 

alrymen, all brave and glorious in smart uniforms, vizored 
caps, and great boots. 

Now Nip and Tuck were great friends and such close chums 
that, when the wars were over and each had received his wages 
and could hear it jingling in the pockets of his trousers, Nip 
said to Tuck: 

“ Comrade, let us set forth into the 
wide world and seek adventure, and per- 
haps we shall find something more worth 
the seeing than is to be found in this town 
or on any field of battle.” 

Yes, Tuck liked that idea all right; but 
see, Nip had a prancing steed to ride and 
Tuck had none. 

Oh, that would be easily mended ! 
Nip was not so selfish as to want to ride 
while his chum walked. They would 
just change about; first Tuck could ride 
a way and Nip would walk, and then Nip 
would ride and Tuck could walk. 

Tuck thought that would be very nice 
if he were only a brave cavalryman; but 
never in this world would he dare to 
mount a prancing steed. No, his own 
The Infantryman. two legs must carry him on any journey 
he traveled in this world, and never 
would he ride on four legs. 

Nip laughed heartily at these words of Tuck, and being a 
jolly soldier and not set on forever having his own way, he 
marched off to the horsemarket. When he came out of the 
market again, there were two more round dollars jingling in 

150 



Nip and Tuck 

his pocket, and his good horse was eating oats in a stall and 
waiting for a new master. 

Well, after this the two soldiers started on their journey, and 
at whatever joke Nip made, Tuck laughed full heartily, and at 
the jokes of Tuck, Nip laughed merrily, which is as it should 
be with two chums traveling upon a journey, even though some 
of the jokes are silly, as I have no doubt they were with Nip and 
Tuck. 

Of all the adventures these two had there is no space to tell 
here; but one there was that more than twice has given me a 
good laugh, for it was recorded at the time in a big book, and 
there can be no doubt of its truth. 

This is the adventure : 

Upon a day, after Nip and Tuck had stepped along for many 
a mile, they stopped in front of an old inn, and there, sound 
asleep on a bench, was a young lad, barefooted and with 
tattered and torn garments. 

Only one look the two jolly soldiers gave the lad when into 
their throats jumped their two hearts, and they stuttered and 
stammered and scarcely knew what to say, for never in all the 
days of their lives had they even seen any one who looked so 
tired and hungry. 

Straightway Nip’s hand went into his pocket, and straight- 
way Tuck’s hand went into his pocket, and any one who was 
there and heard the pennies jingle would have heard a merry 
tune ; and any one who saw the dancing eyes of the two soldiers 
would have seen a happy sight; for any one, with half a look, 
could tell that the tired, hungry lad was about to have a fine 
meal ; and any one could easily guess he would no longer have 
to tramp the stony roads barefoot. 

Well, everything happened just as it should, and, as Mother 

151 


Will Bradley s W onderbox Stories 

Pfounce often says, “ There is no sight in all this world one 
half so fine as seeing a hungry lad get a good meal.’’ And 
of all such sights, none could ever be finer than that which now 
made happy the eyes of Nip and Tuck. 

When the meal was finished and the new shoes comfortably 
fitted, Nip asked the lad where 
he was bound, and in the end 
had the whole story from the 
very beginning up to the pres- 
ent; and also he had in his hand 
the letter addressed to the Lord 
High Constable of the Walled 
Town of Many Towers. 

Yes, the tired, hungry lad 
was the miller’s son. 

Now you may be certain that 
two jolly soldiers traveling 
here, there, and yonder, always 
ready to tell a good story, and 
always ready to be told one, 
could not have gone far upon 
their journey without hearing 
how the armor had answered 
the merchant. Also, you may be sure, that often they had a 
good laugh over the wrath of the rich merchant when he learned 
that his daughter was to marry the miller’s son. 

Yes, all of this they had heard, and also how it had been 
many a day before the rich merchant had dusted all the corn- 
meal from out his clothes after that encounter with the miller; 
and having heard all this, they could not but wonder what 
might be in that letter which the lad was carrying, for, putting 

152 



Nip and Tuck 

this and that together, they thought him a strange messenger to 
be chosen by the merchant. 

Now, as oft happens, it is but a short road from wonder to 
answer; and so no long time passed now until Nip knew all that 
the merchant had written. After that it was n’t long until, 



The Walled City of Many Towers. 


with the help of Tuck, Nip had written another letter and 
signed and sealed it just as was the original; and on it he wrote 
the same address. 

As for the miller’s son he knew nothing of this change of 
letters, and when he stepped forth again upon the highway, he 
thought it was the merchant’s letter he bore in his pocket. 

i53 


Will Bradley’s W onderbox Stories 


And when at last he reached the Walled City of Many Towers 
and was ushered into his castle, he thought it was the mer- 
chant’s letter he placed in the hands of the Lord High Con- 



stable. 

When the Lord High Constable read the letter, there was a 

jolly smile upon his face, and 
he took into his own and 
warmly shook the hand of 
the lad, for the letter said: 

“ Marry this lad, at once, 
to my daughter.” 

And it was signed by the 
rich merchant. 

Some time, if you chance 
to be traveling near Noodle- 
burg, you will probably find 
Nip seated upon a stool in 
front of some jolly company 
telling the story of how the 
Miller’s Lad married the 
Rich Merchant’s Daughter. 
And when he finishes, you 

The Trumpeter. wil1 hear T uck Say : 

“ And after the marriage, 
and as the town trumpeter was proclaiming the news through- 
out the city, who should appear riding through the gate but 
the rich merchant? ” 

Then Nip will say, “ And that was a sight well worth the 
seeing, as Tuck and I know, who were there to hear him 
fuss and scold.” 

And then Tuck will say, “ But anyway, the two young people 
didn’t care; they were happy, and lived happily ever after.” 


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